


bombs and bullets

by ashinan



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Buckle up kids, Epic, Guns, M/M, Sexual Content, Space Battles, Violence, it's about to get real, sniper!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-06 07:32:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8740531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashinan/pseuds/ashinan
Summary: A failed exploration mission leaves Garrison Cadets Lance and Hunk stranded on the outskirts of Galra controlled space. Forced to find new careers to survive, Lance takes up bounty hunting to make ends meet. Three years, a flawless record, and still not enough coin to speak of makes the newest bounty mission impossible to turn down. A one-way ticket back to Earth is nearly too good to be true. Lance can’t say no. Apprehend fugitive 117-9875. How hard can that be?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Way back in the summer, when I was working in a terrible job and had a lot of spare time on my hands, I listened to a certain song that IMMEDIATELY spawned an entire possible universe in my head. That universe was centred around Sniper!Lance. It took me a long time to get all the pieces sorted, everything figured out, but Nano helped a _lot_. So, now with it almost done and at a stupid amount of words, it's time to throw it into fandom and hope for the best.
> 
> I also noticed a distinct lack of Hance epic fics so. Uh. Here you go? 
> 
> HUGE thanks to [Lisa Onions](http://butteredonions.tumblr.com/) for cheerleading me on and helping me through the sticky parts, editing things like crazy and helping me fix a subplot that, until very recently, was a huge part of the fic. Another big thanks to [Mumble](http://mumblefox.tumblr.com/) for editing and being jacked about reading this fic since it's outline!
> 
>  **EDIT:** the Sheith content begins around chapter 6, so just be prepared to wait for it if that's why you're here. BUT IT'S COMING.

Lance leaned back in the co-pilot chair, arms above his head as he stretched. The _Reliant_ hummed under him, calibrations running up and over his screen as he compensated for the latest jump. Five months into their mission to explore beyond the solar system and Lance desperately missed ergonomic chairs. And pizza. And the beach, and his mother’s hugs, and he’d already missed three of his cousins and two of his nieces’ birthdays – nope, okay, nope, back to what he was doing. Cali _brations_.

The _Reliant_ was top tech, honed after multiple failed missions to the outer rim of the system, and introduced one of the Garrison’s first pilot AI systems, which Lance fondly called Hal. It consistently corrected his projections for further and further jumps (not that Lance would ever implement them) and flatly called him ‘Human’. It was a working relationship.

With the actual co-pilot on break for the next thirty minutes, Lance was in charge of making sure they didn’t fly into a comet or some such nonsense. It was a step up from just aiding the co-pilot and his mentor, Ryder, and it was _awesome_. Even though Hal continued to shoot down any and all of Lance’s fake projections for a cross galaxy jump.

Settling back in the chair, Lance brought up Hunk’s comm, drumming his fingers against the keys while he waited. It had been luck of the draw that Hunk was even on this mission; one of the engineers on the ship had taken him on as an apprentice the same way their head pilot had taken on Lance. Lance was overwhelmingly grateful that Hunk was there, that they could squirrel themselves away in hidden corners whenever time permitted, that his chosen family at least was in the same space as him.

The screens flickered and a long string of code blinked red. Lance frowned. Leaning forward, he expanded it out. That – those calculations couldn’t be possible.

“Hey, Inira, can you check this out? Am I missing something here?”

Their communications officer stood and leaned over his shoulder, her fingers picking at the code. More lines pinged up and Lance threw them up on the screen one by one. She frowned. “That cannot be correct.”

“Right? What is that, Hal? Can you run it for me and expand it out on the screen?”

“Of course, Human.”

The code meshed together and then pushed apart again. Not only did it not make sense, it wasn’t possible.

If the code was lying, then -

Lance glanced up, thumbing over the opaque setting for the main window. They usually kept it on low when the screens were up to allow for easier navigation, but he had to see. When the window cleared, when space was bared, he could barely believe his eyes.

A giant sigil hovered in the midst of space, its insides wriggling with grey-white light. Lance boggled. Hunk answered his comm but Lance was too busy staring out the window to answer him. The calculations didn’t lie. That was a _wormhole_.

“Get the commander on the phone. I think we just discovered something brilliant,” Inira said, awed. Lance brought up the comm link. He startled when Hunk blinked back at him.

“Whoa, sorry dude, something’s happening up here, I’ll call you back, yeah?”

Before Hunk could answer, Lance dissolved the screen and comm’d their commander. By the time he hung up, more than half of his screen was steadily pinging red. Each new line of information solidified the picture, a massive portal wide open in the depths of space. Lance was captivated.

Inira tapped her fingers on one line of code, her face scrunching in a frown. “This here worries me. It states the wormhole has its own gravity and that we are in danger of entering it.”

Hal piped up. “This is correct, Ensign Hart. Once the _Reliant_ enters the gravitational force of the anomaly, we will be pulled through.”

Lance startled. “Wait, _what?_ We have no idea what’s on the other side of that thing! Or if there’s even another side for us to come out to!”

“Correct, Human. There are currently no calculations that pertain to the ending point of such an anomaly. Further study is warranted. Would you like to proceed through the wormhole?” Hal’s display glowed a calming blue and Lance quickly took over the controls. He swallowed.

“You’re senior officer here, Inira. What do we do?”

Iniria straightened. “I need to inform the head pilot. Keep us from falling into the field and I’ll wake him up. AI, sleep mode.”

Immediately, Hal went dark and Lance was given partial control of the ship. Inira rushed away. Lance stared as the code continued to ping red, as the window became more and more clear. The sigil was stunning, a giant wheel of light where only darkness reigned, and it was steadily growing closer.

Compensating for the gravitational field, Lance yanked them around so the _Reliant_ could stay just outside the wormhole’s pull. The stars were completely blotted out by the sheer size of the gate, swirls of multicolored light housing a seething hole of uncertainty. Lance tightened his grip on the controls, flicking a few buttons to stabilize monitors that were pinging yellow. His calibrations were definitely ruined now.

“Ensign Fuentes, we have an issue,” Inira said, hurrying up the platform. Lance glanced over his shoulder at her just as the entire right side of his screen went purple.

Alarms immediately rang, screams of sound that drowned out the sudden flurry of motion of the crew beyond the open doors of the bridge. Lance jerked back to his screen, steadying the lurch of the ship, and yelled for Hal. It came back online with a hum, a whisper of silver, and Lance demanded, “Decipher! On my screen!”

Flurries of purple code whizzed by.  Above the sigil, in the nothingness of space, a ship, a _massive impossible ship_ , slammed into existence. Lance gasped, fingers flying over the screen as he adjusted their trajectory and immediately rerouted power to the main thrusters. Inira grabbed the back of his seat, her face brushing close to his.

“Fly, fly, quickly!”

Spreading his fingers wide, Lance bit his lip as only three of the power cells came online as green. They must have been doing routine maintenance - Hunk was down in the engineering sectors - they only had _three_. The impossible ship barrelled toward them, purple lights flaring blindingly bright. A fourth power cell flickered between yellow and green. They couldn’t jump without at least five. Lance swiped his thumb across the screen, coaxing, sweat trickling down his temple. Inira panted in fear beside him.

“Lance!”

“We won’t be able to jump without five!”

“We won’t be _alive_ if you don’t fucking fly!”

“We’ll die anyway if we _can’t jump_!”

The ship rocked forward, a blast knocking Lance around in his seat as he banged his forehead off the console. Inira was thrown back behind him, her cry lost amongst the wail of the sirens growing louder. Screams and shouts joined in, terror running rampant, and Lance blearily caught the swell of purple light out of his peripheral. The impossible ship had fired. They’d – they were keying up to fire again.

“ _Dammit_ ,” Lance hissed out. He struggled with his safety harness, yanking it free and scooping up his helmet. Fires blistered around him as he scrambled toward the head pilot’s seat, slamming into it and connecting himself to the program. Still only four cells. They’d have to try. They couldn’t stay.

As he brought up the configuration for mid-level jump, Hal chimed in, “This course of action is unwise, Human. Altering parameters.”

“Don’t you dare,” Lance snarled, typing fast. “Override code: blue-galaxy-eight-seven-seven.”

“Code acknowledged,” Hal said. The glow of purple was near overwhelming. “How may I assist you, Pilot Fuentes?”

“All power to core thrusters. Count down to mid-level jump on my mark.” Spinning the diagram in front of him, Lance rerouted the fluctuating cores to stabilize the uncertain fifth core. “Evasive maneuvers if the enemy ship fires. Mark.”

The cores lit up. Lance chewed his cheek ragged. Calculations fired on the other side of his screen and he shooed them away, focusing. Everything slowed down as green shone over his panel and he shoved forward. A purple glow enveloped the _Reliant_.

They did not jump.

The cores powered down, all four going dark. Lance exhaled in shock.

A shattering explosion jerked him forward and slammed him back. People screamed. Hull breaches in levels four, six and twelve. He scrambled for his helmet, jamming it over his head and powering it on, gaze still caught on the failed core thrusters. His helmet hummed, readjusting the confines of his suit, and Lance’s gaze darted over the calculations. He could fix this. He could. Another explosion rocked the ship and Lance cursed filthily, bringing up the flight controls. He faltered. Ryder had drilled it into his head over and over that Lance wasn’t _ready_ to fully pilot the ship on his own, that he needed to earn that trust. But they were getting _slaughtered,_ and there was no guarantee the head pilot was still alive.

Lance took control.

The next beam of purple light missed them by inches. More hull breaches pinged up on Lance’s feed and he shoved them aside. The ship loomed over them, the wormhole a halo of light behind it. Lance yanked them to the side right as another missile rocketed by them.

If they could escape through the wormhole, that might buy them time. _He just needed to buy them time_.

The ship followed, banking with surprising grace considering its size. Lance evaded the first two shots, but he couldn’t dodge the third. It sliced through the top of the bridge, a clean hole depressurizing the entire bridge area. Artificial gravity disengaged and everything went chillingly silent, his suit compensating for the sudden shift in atmosphere. He couldn’t – he had to save them. He had to.

He was the only one left. He had to get them to safety.

A hand slapped down on his shoulder and Lance jumped, fist coming up. Hunk caught him around the wrist, shouting into his helmet, but Lance couldn’t hear him over the static in his ears. He stared. Hunk grabbed his safety harness, wrapped a firm arm around Lance’s waist, and unhooked him.

Immediately, space tried to grab and yank him out. Hunk clung to him, hands roaming over his back until he hit a button and Lance’s feet slammed into the metal of the deck. Hunk’s words finally filtered through the quiet speakers in his helmet and Lance adjusted the volume to hear Hunk clearly.

“We have to leave, Lance, we have to _go!”_

“Hunk?” Lance shook, before he twisted back to the control panel. “No, I can still save them, let me –”

Arms wrapped around his waist and Hunk hauled him back and away. Lance shouted, squirming, the panel beckoning. He could save them. He could fix this. He could still protect them all.

His visor filled with purple light.

Hunk heaved them backwards. The light cleaved the bridge off the ship. The catastrophic force of the damage hurled them back into the confines of the ship, and Lance scrambled for a hold while Hunk held onto him. They both collided with the far wall, beside one of the life pods, and Hunk rolled them into it.

The doors of the pod shut, hissing out steam, as gravity reasserted itself. Hunk took the brunt of the fall, exhaling sharply when Lance landed with a knee in his gut. They both groaned.

The pod shuddered, clamps disengaging. With a deafening screech, the pod launched. The force of the expulsion shoved Lance further into Hunk’s chest, the two of them fighting for air as they spiralled into space. When they slowed enough for the gravity dampeners to engage, Lance sucked in a grateful breath before scrambling to his feet.

Hunk pushed up after him, grabbing Lance’s arm before he could get the controls up. “We can’t go back!”

“We can still salvage this. We can still help them, Hunk, we have to! That’s our crew!”

Hunk stood, fingers flexing against Lance’s arm. His expression twisted with grief. “Lance, we _can’t_. You know we can’t. We don’t have the firepower to go up against something that insane!”

Beyond the window, beyond their little pod hurtling away into the unknown of space, the impossible ship shone. Purple light glowed from every edge of it; the cannon atop it charged up and fired again, completely destroying the _Reliant_. Lance gasped, lurching forward. He could fix this. They could - they could still be alive. Oh God, please let them still be alive.

Another thick beam of light decimated any lingering pieces, scattering the _Reliant_ into stardust.

Lance collapsed against the console, Hunk hanging onto his arm.

He couldn’t save them, he couldn’t - just like that, his space family was slaughtered. Gone. Maura in the infirmary, who scolded Lance whenever he came in with a sprained wrist. Amal down in the kitchens, agile with a knife and deadly with the garlic. Ryder in the pilot’s seat, his _mentor_ , the one that had taken a shot on him. Aidan and Jane in communications, Hershel on navigation, Lydia and Tali and Scott and –

Inira.

The screen beneath his hand beeped, quiet at first and then angrier. Lance jolted. Gravitational compensation? Oh –

“No, no, we _can’t.”_ Lance scrambled for the calculations. Hunk released him, grabbing the back of the seat as their pod lurched. Alarms wailed. “Hunk, I need you to disengage the safety on the thrusters.”

“That will definitely turn us into a giant fireball,” Hunk protested, but he stepped away to fiddle open a panel.

Lance silenced the alarm. “Yeah, well, we’re about to go through a wormhole with no way of knowing where we’ll end up, so I think we should take our chances.”

The light above them dulled but Lance dared not look up, fingers flying over the keys as he tried to find a loophole in the calculations. Their little pod was hurtling too fast toward the wormhole, the ejection protocol locking them in place until the threat was removed or they entered atmosphere. The wormhole glowed, silver and blue. Lance sucked in a breath.

“Any second, Hunk!”

“I don’t agree with this!” Hunk slammed the panel closed and scrambled for his seat, clicking on his harness. “Go for it!”

Typing in the final code, Lance bypassed the set parameters for the thrusters and took them over. He worried his lip. Glanced over his shoulder. Hunk had his head tucked down, fingers tight over the harness belts, eyes squeezed shut against their impending demise. Glancing up one last time through the window, Lance swallowed. The ship loomed above them, brushing away the shattered remains of the _Reliant_. Dead. They were all dead. Family and friends. Just - gone.

He took his thumb off the thrusters.

The wormhole glowed, brilliant and encompassing. Lance closed his eyes.

Everything turned to liquid light.


	2. 1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALL RIGHT we're finally getting this story started! I'm nervous about this fic in a strange way, mostly because I really want the epic to be EPIC so I hope you all enjoy it!! 
> 
> HUGE thanks to [Lisa Onions](http://butteredonions.tumblr.com/) who, after we said we wouldn't nitpick on edits, nitpicked anyway and pushed me to give this chapter the proper editing it deserved. Another huge thanks to [Mumble](http://mumblefox.tumblr.com/) who fixes the little things in my fics so they run smoothly and make SENSE. You two are amazing.

**Three Years Later**

Easing the craft into port, Lance flipped three switches to put the ship on auto-pilot and stood, stretching the kinks from his back. The ship groaned around him, the crystal flickering with barely-there light. They’d need a new one. Hunk would kill him if they were without a crystal for another three months.

The ship shuddered as it docked, hissing and spitting, and Lance darted into the back where the cargo sat secured. He checked over the dossier, tapping his fingers against the lines that would likely cause issue and altering them slightly. Bouncing up on his toes, he counted three major crates and two smaller ones. The third one, his cut, was stashed away under the pilot seat. Tossing the pad on top of the nearest crate, Lance retrieved his sniper rifle from where he’d stashed it, slipping it onto the holster at his back. The magnets clicked into place and he rolled his shoulders until the rifle was comfortable. He pulled his pistol out of his thigh holster and checked it over before strapping it back in place.

The side doors dinged, a request to board, and Lance tapped the comm link as he checked his clips. “Y’ello?”

“Terran Citizen 0-0-255?” a Galra sentry asked on the other side. Lance scrubbed a hand over his mouth. That was - unfortunate. Shit. He clicked over to the wire, the underground radio of sorts that sent out PSAs on anything from spontaneous checks to the best Galra commanders to bribe. Chatter hummed in his ear and he filtered through the channels until he found the one he wanted: nothing on dock checks, just the usual fanfare for the day. Well then.

He clicked at his ear piece and a thin visor slipped over his eyes. Hunk’s ingenuity had led to Lance’s favourite piece of tech: a wearable tablet with all the funky features. The best? A thermal recognition software, which allowed him to catalogue any and all thermal scans of people in the area. Outside his ship, outlined in red but blue on the inside, were three Galra sentry units. Huh.

“You got him. What can I do for you today, officer?”

“We have been ordered to search your vessel in the name of Emperor Zarkon. Open your doors immediately and prepare to be boarded.”

Lance leaned against the door, head tilted as he flicked the safety off the gun in his thigh holster. “See, you definitely need to buy me dinner first before any ‘boarding’ can happen.”

“Response unrecognized. Open the doors immediately.”

“Well, if you insist.”

Lance tapped the switch for the door, scooping up the discarded holopad and flicking it on. The three Galra sentries charged into the cargo pit, guns at the ready, and Lance lifted his hands. “Whoa, whoa, no need for theatrics, boys. Everything is in order. Here.”

Handing over the dossier, Lance tucked his hands into his pockets. Three robotic Galra sentries and no big bad to make sure nothing untoward happened to them? For shame. At least no one alive was around. One of the sentry’s scanners lit up, ugly purple light flitting over the pad as it scanned its contents. Another sentry wandered into the bowels of the ship, chirping at its companions before it left. Lance eyed the closest sentry as it walked in front of him, directly in line with the one doing the scanning. Inhale.

His hand shot down to his gun, flicking it up and firing off a shot. Exhale. The plasma beam melted the first sentry’s head and completely decapitated the second. The dossier clattered to the floor and Lance groaned; Hunk was going to scold him fierce for shattering another holopad. The third sentry came charging back into the room and Lance whirled, firing two more shots. Both of the sentry’s arms clattered to the floor and the sentry stumbled back, sparking. Lance approached, a swagger in his step, and placed his gun against the sentry’s head.

“You should’ve bought me dinner first.”

He fired.

The sentry crumpled, sparks leaking out its ears. Tucking his gun back in his thigh holster, Lance crouched down. Though the sentry’s head was destroyed, the chest cavity was neatly intact. Tucking his fingers into the edges of the armour, Lance yanked until it came off with a screech of metal, the sentry’s inner workings on display. No damage and the reactor coils were completely untouched. Hunk was going to swoon.

Digging around, Lance pulled out the tracker chip and fiddled with it, wiping the latest data of where the sentry had been heading. One of the reactor coils pumped sluggishly before slowing and Lance eyed it. It stopped completely and Lance nodded, satisfied, before he returned to poke around a bit more, searching for anything of use. The sentry’s innards would satisfy Hunk and the removed tracker would confuse the commanders. Score.

Popping to his feet, Lance cracked open one of the large containers. It was half filled with exotic weapons and Lance gathered up the destroyed sentries and lugged them on top. He shoved the lid back on, leaning with all his weight until it resealed. Once completed, he updated the weights of the crates on the dossier, wincing at the cracked screen, and exited his ship.

Just another day.

 

Ports were Lance’s favourite places. The port city of Ikrain on Dvix was hands down the most interesting one he’d ever been to, a bustling metropolis of various species mixing together with loose morals and looser change. The port clung to the fringes of the city and leaked corruption like a faucet, smugglers and mercenaries and shady underhand deals taking place in broad daylight. The Galra who controlled the whole place were just as corrupt, easily swayed with the right amount of coin and a flirtatious wink. They also tended to worm their way into any possible rebellions stewing and dismantle them from the inside.

Hunk and Lance had limped their way here three years ago after getting dragged through the wormhole, remnants of the _Reliant_ clinging to their pod. It was no Earth, but it was still home.

Half the ships in the port were of Rolo’s band, his holographic lighting up on Lance’s visor when he glanced over his neighbours. Most were bounty hunters like himself, though some were collectors and spies, loan sharks and traders. Rolo ran a tight crew and if anything exciting happened in the ports, Rolo was the first to know and the first to act. Nyma kept everyone upgraded and well equipped, her network of spies spread far over the galaxy, carrying information and people under Galra eyes. She was the shadow that worked behind Rolo, keeping things stable. Lance’s shipment was for her.

Pausing in the middle of the walkway, Lance flicked through the channels on his visor. A large alien stepped over him, grunting in annoyance. Lance waved a hand, not really paying attention, and brought up the wire. Nothing too chatty on it so far, though right at the bottom was a warning about increased security. Huh. Maybe Nyma knew why.

One of the many perks of working near the poor sectors was the cheap help. It rubbed Lance the wrong way a lot of the time, but the kids had to eat and if Lance could, he would shower them with coin at every opportunity. Unfortunately, the rules of the port stated pretty clear: you keep the coin you earn, you lose the coin given to you. Lance eyed the downtrodden selection of alien kids begging for work. He picked out a smallish alien, green dual tails wrapped daintily around xir feet. Thin raggedy hair stuck against xir forehead and there were definitely some missing fingers on xir’s four hands. Eh. Xe definitely wasn’t going to get picked first, that was for sure, and Lance had a soft spot for the underdog.

He approached the group. “You looking for work, kid?”

The alien blinked, two eyes in sync and the third a little slow. Lance squatted to xir height, putting on a patented Grin of Comfort. Another blink. Maybe the translator was glitchy. Lance talked a bit slower. “I have some work if you’re interested in making a bit of coin.”

Xe nodded suddenly, tails brushing over Lance’s calves. Lance stood. “Great! I have three crates I need to drop off at a mechanic shop on Fifth and two more that need to head over to the warehouse across the street. Think you can help me out with that?”

Another nod, this one more enthused, and two more alien children stepped up in hopes of being picked as well. Lance pursed his lips. The pay from the job would cover the bills for the next month, sure, and Hunk would be bringing home a paycheque later in the week. They could spare a few coins. Everyone needed to eat.

“All right, kiddies, let’s do some menial labour.”

Between the four of them, it took barely any time to drop the three crates off in the garage of Hunk’s shop. He wasn’t in, a note left scrawled on one of Lance’s rifles he was working on, and Lance shooed the kids out before they could get grabby. They hauled the rest off to Nyma’s. He paid each child two silver Galra coins, though he slipped in an extra gold coin for the first kid he recruited. Xe blinked wide up at him, tails tapping excitedly against Lance’s side before xe scampered away.

Knocking thrice on the warehouse door, Lance rocked back on his heels and scanned the crowd. A good mixture of the general populace and Galra sentries wandered by; still no big bads though. Lance tapped through his visor, checking his messages and the wire. A bulletin scrolled slowly over the bottom: Missing sentries; any information would be met with a reward; blah blah blah. His lips ticked up in surprise. So there was someone herding the little sentries around? Lance scoffed. Even with the coin he’d just given away to the kids, it wasn’t worth even pretending to have information. A potential good scam though -

“What did you do?”

Lance cocked his head to the side, grinning wide as Nyma leaned out the door. She’d twisted her hair up into an intricate knot, tucking the mess away with pins. Her golden fur was rucked up in places and smudged with dust. Thick armbands coiled down from her elbows to the tips of her fingers. Inventory work, then. Lance sidled up beside her.

 _“Nyma_ , sunshine, light of my life, how are you?”

“Pissed, but that’s nothing new when it comes to you. Get in here.”

She shoved open the door and ushered him inside, allowing two droids out to collect the crates. Lance followed her through the dark hallway and out into the intricate warehouse that doubled as a get-anything-and-everything pawn shop. It ranged from exotic weaponry to antique figures to old tickets from the arena when certain gladiators had fought. He jogged to catch up to her, peering at her newest wares off to the left, before following her around to the counter.

“It’s all over the wires, Lance,” Nyma said, cocking her hip as she eyed him. Lance smiled winningly, running his fingers over the plasma shells she’d lined up neatly on the counter. “Three sentries didn’t report in and now their handlers are prowling around trying to figure out why. That’s bad for business.”

Lance lifted his hands, palms out. “Hunk needed new reactor coils. Easiest place to get them -”

“- is from the Galra sentry units, yes, I know. You’re lucky Hunk is cute when he’s happy.”

“Hey! What about me?” Lance waggled his brows. “Doesn’t my amazing charm and rockin’ bod make you want to forgive me?”

“No,” Nyma deadpanned.

“Nyma! You wound me so! I thought I was your favourite!”

Nyma put her hand on Lance’s face, shoving him backwards. “You’re such a child. Rolo’s getting in a shipment of new exotic weapons from out in the Sierra sector if you want to pop by tomorrow. I’m sure he’d be willing to share if you’re up for another job or two.”

Flopping on the counter, Lance groaned. “He just had me running around the entire solar system! If this keeps up, our crystal is gonna crack and Hunk’ll lynch me.”

Shrugging, Nyma leaned her elbows on the counter, smiling down at him. “Not our problem.”

“I won’t be able to do any more jobs for the two of you if the crystal goes kaput.” Lance mirrored her position, trying to get a read on her. His rifle dug uncomfortably into the small of his back. She was as transparent as concrete. “Wouldn’t want that right? Your favourite carrier pigeon out of commission?”

Nyma rolled her eyes. “You mercs are all the same. Always looking for a payout.”

“Wow, name calling is so beneath you.” Lance pushed forward and tapped his nose against Nyma’s, grinning when she scrunched up her face. “I’ll tell Hunk you said hi. Don’t work too hard!”

Nyma dropped three plasma shells into his palm, winking as she shooed him away. “Get out of here.”

Saluting, Lance about-faced and slipped out the side door and back into the busy street. He added the three shells to his counter, tucking them away as he straightened his coat. His visor pinged at least six more Galra patrols nearby and he paused, head cocking. That was unusual. It was one thing for them to get antsy over a few missing droids, but this? Excessive. Not to mention mildly worrying.

Cutting through the back streets, Lance made it back to Hunk’s shop and through the garage in record time. He locked the door behind him and opaqued the windows. The crates were still neatly stacked beside the counter. Lance leaned his shoulder against the door, peering through the glass. A PSA in just under twenty minutes. Extra sentries in the streets. Surprise ship boardings. What did it all mean?

Puzzles, puzzles. Shrugging off his cloak and sniper rifle, Lance pushed into the back of the shop. It doubled as their home and main hideaway, chock full of mismatched appliances and weapons Hunk was constantly tinkering with. Most of their living quarters were covered in blankets and clunky furniture, tapestries and star maps. Lance bypassed the small kitchen on the way to the armoury, tucked neatly beside the bathroom. Lance had put up a bead curtain. Hunk had taken it down and replaced it with a wall.

The hidden panel opened as Lance took out his earpiece. Slotting his hand into place, he sighed noisily as it ran his fingerprints and gave him the green light, the door sliding open. Bead curtain would be way easier to get in and out of. Seriously. Lance pushed through and slotted his rifle into its place on the wall, humming to himself. He began emptying his person of extra guns, lining them up on the table at the center. He tucked the three plasma shells Nyma had given him beside the others in shell storage. By the time he’d placed all the guns back into their designated slots, the door slammed and Hunk called for Lance.

“Behind the bead curtain!” Lance called back.

“It’s not a bead curtain, dude, it’s a wall,” Hunk said, walking past the door on the way to the kitchen. He was laden down with shopping bags. “Shipment went smoothly?”

Lance walked out, stretching tall as the wall shut closed behind him. “Who do you take me for? Greedo? Of course it went well. How are the kids?”

Hunk’s response was muffled by unpacking. “Bored. I wasn’t able to get to the reactor coil lesson today like I promised them. Speaking of, did you find any?”

“About that -”

Hunk popped his head out from the kitchen, eyebrows high. “Tell me you didn’t.”

Unbuckling the thigh holster saved Lance from looking Hunk in the eyes. “Then I won’t.”

“You did! Lance!” Hunk stomped out of the kitchen and straight for the three crates lined up in the shop. He cracked one open, groaning at what he found inside. “You brought them here? The streets are swarming with patrols right now!”

“Ah, but sentries are easy to disable. It’s the live ones you have to look out for.” Lance followed Hunk and draped himself over Hunk’s back, nudging his nose against Hunk’s ear. Hunk ignored him, yanking apart one of the sentries and digging the tracker out. “Did that already.”

“Did you take out all of them?”

“Well -”

Hunk sighed. Lance pouted, slipping his arms off Hunk’s shoulders before grabbing a chair. He dragged it over as Hunk pulled the other two sentries onto the counter, removing their trackers and silencing them. Lance dropped into the chair, kicking his boots up onto the counter, and Hunk shoved them back down. Lance stuck his tongue out. If Hunk was this bent out of shape over three sentries, he was definitely going to flip over the holopad and the deteriorating crystal.

“We can’t use them now,” Hunk said, worrying his bottom lip. “I really wanted to show the kids what an old fashioned Earth clock looked like.”

“ _That’s_ why you wanted the reactor coils? You know, I could’ve just asked Nyma nicely for some from her shop then! It’s not like the Galra sentries are the only ones that look like clockwork inside.” Waving a hand, Lance propped up his boots again. Hunk shoved them off. “Hey!”

“You don’t think it’s weird?” Hunk folded his arms, frowning. “They had an alert out awfully fast.”

Lance scratched at his chin. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that. Something definitely has them spooked. Last time I downed three sentries we were in the clear for a few months before the herders noticed their flock was missing.”

“Rolo?”

“Back tomorrow.”

Picking up the sentries, Hunk placed them delicately back into the boxes. “We need to get rid of these until the all-clear. Nyma didn’t want them?”

“I’m sure if you asked her, she would.” Lance smiled winningly. Hunk scrunched up his nose. “What? She has a soft spot for you, babe. We can stash them with her and collect once everything calms down, yeah?”

Hunk sighed, picking up the first of the large crates and carrying it into the back. Lance resettled his heels on the counter, thoughts scattered. What would spook the Galra to the point where three missing sentries were cause for this much security? Nyma was right; the wires were lit up like a Christmas tree. Either someone was trying to incite another rebellion or something more nefarious was afoot. Either way, the underground would be in a tizzy for the next few weeks if it continued.

Perfect.

“Are you going to help?” Hunk asked, grabbing the second crate. Lance popped to his feet and picked up the smallest crate, depositing it square on top of Hunk’s. When Hunk didn’t immediately react, Lance leaned forward and pecked him on the mouth, grinning.

Hunk rolled his eyes. “I got groceries. Prep for me?”

While Hunk put the crates away, Lance unloaded the groceries, beginning on the general prep work. After nearly slicing off his thumb when he chased a random thought and forgot about the knife in his hands, Lance called out to Hunk. “Extra security. Spontaneous ship checks. PSA about the missing sentries within the hour. What does it add up to?”

Hunk walked into the kitchen, eyebrow raised. He washed his hands quickly before picking up the knife Lance had discarded. “I don’t know, but can you please not shoot anything else until it dies down?”

“Where’s the fun in that.” Lance pursed his lips, tapping his fingers against a strip of meat. The answer was right there, ripe for the picking. He just had to -

“The fun is that we stay out of trouble! Your last bail set us back a good year.” Hunk drizzled the vegetables in oil, seasoning them lightly. Allowing them to marinate, he slipped a hand over Lance’s waist and steered him out of the way, picking up the meat and tossing it in the pan.

Lance winced. “See, that wasn’t my fault. I didn’t know Torrians see flirting as a personal insult to their species. It was harmless!”

“You’re anything but harmless.” Hunk sighed noisily, dropping a quick kiss against Lance’s temple before shooing him out of the kitchen. Lance chuckled, grabbing his earpiece and flicking on the visor. Possibilities. What if…

He double clicked. The bounty channel popped up, flicking constantly with new information and new collections. There, right at the top, was a shiny new ‘Discretion Required’ with the affixed purple star. A legit Galra controlled bounty. Lance boggled. There hadn’t been one of those in at least a year and last time it had been snatched up within _hours_. The entire port had been furiously competing to the point of rebellion.

Score!

“Hunk, we got a live one!” Lance slid excitedly into the kitchen, catching himself on the counter. Hunk dropped a plate into his flailing hands. “We don’t have time to eat, we have to make money!”

“There is always time for dinner, Lance.” Hunk bumped Lance with his hip, eyebrow raised. “Rolo doesn’t get back till tomorrow and last time we took a bounty without his know how, you were trapped in a bubble for three days.”

“Stop living in the past,” Lance said, though he sullenly went to the table and sat down. Hunk plucked the visor and earbud from him on the way past and sat across from him. “It’s a Galra controlled bounty which means someone did indeed fuck up. It explains the increased sentry level as well as the spontaneous searchers. They’re looking for someone! But they haven’t been able to find them yet so they’re putting out an APB. There’s probably a lucrative reward. We could use it to upgrade the ship, get that new crystal we desperately need; hell, we could clear out Nyma’s shop! Think of all the possibilities!”

“No shop talk at the table,” Hunk said firmly, cutting into his meat.

“No, but babe, listen, you’re not listening, this is our big break -”

“Eat your vegetables, Lance.”

Lance waved his fork in the air. “With all the repairs needed and the crystal almost kaput, this could be-”

“Wait,” Hunk said, frowning. “What’s wrong with -”

“- and Rolo’s _face_ ,” Lance said, running with the idea. “It would be comedic gold waltzing in and purchasing the entire store -”

“What do you mean the crystal is ‘kaput’?” Hunk firmly placed his fork down, disbelief clear in his tone. “What did you _do_?”

Lance clicked his teeth together. Whoops. “Ha. I’m just going to go eat in our room –”

“ _Lance!”_

 

The next morning, they were outside Nyma’s warehouse bright and early, Lance rubbing moodily at his shoulder. Hunk had tackled him in the bedroom, demanding an explanation on the crystal issue, and Lance had moodily explained the issue. Even _more_ reason to go after the bounty. They couldn’t keep running around the system with a bum ship.

His visor picked up three sentries loitering just down the street. Nothing untoward, just aimless patrols. The ridiculous security had died down since yesterday, leaving the port Galra-free for the most part, business operating as usual. It still worried him that the sentries had been noted missing so quickly. The bounty might provide some answers.

The side door rattled open and a droid poked its head out, gesturing at the two of them before it turned and rolled wordlessly back inside the shop. Lance hurried after it, a bounce in his step. New things, new information, new _bounty_. What a perfect start to the day.

The warehouse was busy with Rolo’s latest shipment, droids opening crates and depositing the contents onto soft blankets. Dust motes caught in the air. Lance poked around at the rifle shells on the wall, forlorn that Nyma had started putting them behind glass so he couldn’t pocket a few. The bounty still hung like a tantalizing carrot, waiting to be bitten. Lance wasn’t one to shy away.

As they approached the counter, Rolo leaned back against the shelves, arms crossed and gaze sleepy.

“Rolo! My favourite space pirate. Do you have any space booty for me?” Lance propped his hip up on the counter, grinning wide. Rolo raised a delicate brow at him. “Speaking of, is Nyma -”

Hunk interrupted, “Hey, Rolo, ignore Lance. What do you have for us?”

Ducking down, Rolo picked up three sniper rifles and laid them out. A coo left Lance as he bent over close, nose practically to the scope on the first rifle. It was a beautiful Eirena model; there were select few in the galaxy and Rolo had _three_. Seamless integration of the cache chamber, compact ability, disassembly in under twelve seconds? He could just swoon.

“How much?” Lance demanded.

Rolo scratched at the sparse hair under his cap, his grin easy-going and transparently greedy. “Two missions to Pryas for a delivery.”

Doable. Lance drew his fingers over the scope again, contemplating.

Hunk rolled his eyes. “Did you check out the bounty?”

Shrugging, Rolo said, “It’s not much. It seems like a routine locate mission, but it’s being overseen by someone from Galra high command. Higher reward but far more dangerous.”

That got Lance’s attention. If the bounty was being controlled by high command… “We don’t do kill missions.”

“They’re offering an exuberant reward for the retrieval of a weapon one of their prisoners stole,” Rolo continued. He smiled a shark’s smile. “Free choice of three battleship class Balmera crystals and more gold than this city has made in a hundred years.”

“Oh,” Lance exhaled. That was - oh _wow._ Their collected coin wasn’t anything to sneeze over right now, but it was far from purchasing a battleship level Balmera crystal. They could go _home_ with that. Hell, they could outfit the entire space program back on Earth with the money itself. “What did the guy _steal?”_

Rolo shrugged again. “Dunno. It’s the Galra, so it was probably some weapon of mass destruction. Whatever it is, half the city is panting after this but barely anyone has gotten a chit back. You boys are welcome to try, but with the ‘no kill’ clause you have attached to your name, it’ll be hard up. I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

“Why would they put out a bounty for something so high class?” Hunk said, ever the voice of reason. “The Galra don’t like to deal out of house.”

“Someone’s changed their mind. You boys’ll get paid big if you manage to snag this one.” Rolo slid a small drive over the counter and Hunk pocketed it. “Here’s the contact info if you want to go after it. Lance, if you want the rifles, you’re going to have to pay a deposit.”

Lance scoffed, offended. “Okay, one, rude. You don’t trust me to pay you back? And two, if we get that bounty and bag ourselves a fugitive, I’m buying every last gun in your warehouse.” They could go home, they could go _home,_ this was their chance. They needed to get started on the application right away. Snagging Hunk’s hand, Lance dragged him out of the warehouse, giddy despite himself.“We’ll keep you updated, yeah? Thanks, Rolo.”

Rolo waved a hand, turning back to his inventory.  Hunk tangled their fingers together as they stepped into the bustling center of the docks, the swarm of people swallowing them up. “I recognize that look. You think we should take it, huh?”

Lance nodded, lifting Hunk’s hand and kissing the knuckles. “That’s enough to get us home, babe. We haven’t been this close in years! Could you imagine what it would be like to arrive back on Earth in an alien craft? Could you imagine how furious our mothers will be when we just show up again? It’ll be great!”

“Yeah,” Hunk said. The hunch of his shoulders belied his words. Lance frowned.

“You don’t like it?”

Hunk squeezed Lance’s hand, shaking his head. “It’s not that. Galra bounties are notoriously dangerous. I - we don’t have to take it. I picked up a few more shifts at the school and I’m sure we can save up enough money to get a new crystal in the next few weeks. We might even be able to afford one that can galaxy hop!”

Hunk was so _good_. Lance snickered, wrapping an arm around Hunk’s neck. “Or we could take the bounty, collect the reward, and go home! That’s an amazing thought, yeah?”

Hunk smiled, that soft, pleased one that Lance immediately had to kiss. The crowd split around them while Hunk laughed against his mouth and Lance pulled back, beaming. They were so close. They could finally make progress on the single thing on their three year list:

Going home.


	3. 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a super quick note! The story will be on hiatus until the new year (holidays and all) and will start posting again on January 7th! I hope the three chapters I've posted thus far tide you all over in the meanwhile. Huge thanks to [Lisa Onions](http://butteredonions.tumblr.com/) and [Mumble](http://mumblefox.tumblr.com/) for the amazing edits and support!!!

The return chit was a surprise. It shouldn’t have been, considering Lance’s track record, but it was well known in all bounty circles that Lance refused to take kill shots on any of his runs. It had coined him a fun nickname, one that Hunk teased him for endlessly: the Sleeper-Sniper. Made him sound like a goddamn nanny, but his morals stood. If the bounty could be completed without loss of life, Lance was the best of the best and many that posted bounties were thrilled when he sent in his application.

If the Galra controlling the bounty was okay with that, great. In Lance’s experience, that was usually not the case. Not once in the short message he’d received did it mention this being a no-kill bounty; Lance might have to turn it down on principle. But the reward was outlined, there in big bold letters: a choice of three Balmera crystals and enough gold to buy a planet. The meeting was tonight, after Hunk got off work, in the market square near the school Hunk taught at. Lance tapped his thumb against the holopad. Hunk was making a decent paycheque. Lance could take a few more jobs from Rolo. They could get a new crystal in just a few short months.

Or.

Sighing, he plopped the holopad on the desk and shoved his palms into his cheeks, glaring at the screen. If the Galra agreed to hire them but didn’t state kill orders, they’d take it. Otherwise - well, Lance had gone this long without killing any more people. He’d rather not break that just for a chance to get home.

Sitting up straight, Lance drummed his fingers on the table. Okay. Okay, okay, okay. Get things sorted out. Make sure he was unforgettable. At least get the Galra’s interest and then if things went sideways, kindly back off and go with Plan B. Shoving to his feet, Lance puttered around the house, collecting clothes and dishes, putting Hunk’s tools back into place, fiddling with the pieces of the rifle Hunk was putting together. It didn’t kill enough time. Annoyed, Lance dug out the leftovers from the fridge and flopped down on the couch, chewing moodily as he thought. They could go home. Lance might have to kill someone. Dammit.

By the time Hunk got home, Lance was dozing on the couch, a rifle cradled in his arms and the holopad by his hip. He blearily turned his head to watch Hunk toe off his shoes, smiling softly. “Hey, how are the kids?”

“Rowdy,” Hunk said. He leaned over the back of the couch to drop a kiss on Lance’s forehead, rubbing a thumb against his temple. “You ready for tonight?”

“There’s not much to get ready for. Gonna bring my Mida just in case, but we’re going in blind.” Lance hummed, closing his eyes as Hunk brushed the hair off his forehead.

“Is that bad?”

“It’s not ideal, but at least the location they’ve chosen is open. We can check the roofs for anyone spying, though with the application I sent in, they probably know everything there is to know about me. You know you don’t have to come with, yeah?”

“I’m not letting you go alone,” Hunk said, appalled. Lance smiled. “What _do_ we know?”

Lance pushed upright, rubbing his palms over his eyes. “Nyma passed on a bit of information. The dude we’re meeting is top brass in this area, likely under main command. If they’ve put out a bounty, that means they’ve either exhausted the normal means of tracking the fugitive or they want to keep this quiet from the Galra main fleet. Nyma also said that without a description of our fugitive, she can’t begin the process of tracking them down, but she has ears to the ground for us anyway.”

Hunk came around, sitting down beside Lance and plucking the rifle from his lap. “How much did that information cost you?”

“A cut of the bounty when we inevitably catch him.” Lance leaned against Hunk’s side, wiggling to get the holopad out. “You ready to walk into the unknown for a slim chance we’ll be heading home?”

“I got your back,” Hunk said, nosing into Lance’s hair as they both glanced over the holopad message. An hour left. Time to prepare.

Dropping a kiss on Hunk’s nose, Lance stood and headed for the armoury. He pulled down his Mida, his favourite scout rifle, and checked the chamber. It would be good enough for a meeting with a Galra and if they asked for a test of skill, Lance could easily provide. Next, he pulled out a blended fabric vest that Nyma swore by, form fitting and black as pitch, able to withstand up to three hours in space. She’d shot him in the chest when he first tried it on. The recoil had hurt him more than the actual shot. Better safe than sorry.

Lance dressed quickly, slotting a pistol into his thigh holster and another into his shoulder holster. Couldn’t be too careful. He plucked a few extra ammo caches from the shelves, tucking them into his belt, and slipped on his boots. There was a line of cloaks hanging off hooks to the side; Hunk must’ve hung up the one from yesterday. Lance grinned. Had to have that patented bounty hunter look. He strapped his scout rifle to his back and exited the armoury, giving a twirl as he walked into the living room.

Hunk smiled, rolling down the sleeves of his shirt over his arms. A mini-launcher was attached to his thigh; an arm cannon clung to his skin and met at the palm of his hand. It was covered nicely by the stark material of Hunk’s shirt. Flat white discs were spaced like a decorative belt on Hunk’s hips, though they acted as shields when activated and tossed. Overall, he was decked out for a firefight. Definitely shouldn’t be a turn on, but Lance was weak.

“You’re shattering that teacher illusion pretty hard there, babe,” Lance said, leaning against the door. He grinned when Hunk rolled his eyes at him. “Don’t get me wrong, sexy school teacher is always a killer fantasy, but I like the addition of weapons. Adds a bit of danger to the romance.”

“Stop objectifying me,” Hunk said. A delicate blush spread over his nose and Lance beamed, doing a slow up and down that only strengthened the blush. “Lance.”

“If we play nice with the Galra tonight, we should celebrate later.” Lance sauntered over, putting on his best flirtatious face. Hunk rolled his eyes. Lance paused in front of him, fingers hooking in the disc belt, and smacked a quick kiss on his nose. “Ready to blow our potential client out of the water with how professional and awesome we are?”

“How you manage to get so many bounties astounds me,” Hunk said, but he nodded, stepping away from Lance to collect his boots.

Lance followed. “It’s that Terran charm, obviously. You got the holopad?”

“Yeah.” Straightening, Hunk pulled it from his back pocket. The screen lit up with the location marker and Lance led the way out, Hunk locking up shop behind them.

The usuals were out and about: beggar kids looking for work, mercs heading in from collecting bounties, Galra soldiers mixed in neatly to show their power over the city but not to incite rebellion. Lance tapped a thumb against his thigh before he reached up and clicked on his visor. The suns would be dipping below the horizon soon; their meet and greet was supposed to last until the first stretch of twilight blanketed the city. Lance reached for Hunk’s hand, tugging him in the direction of the meeting. Best to blend in if they were being monitored.

Hunk kept up a quiet conversation about the kids and what he was teaching them, the surprising way they took up numbers but still stumbled over many Terran words. Lance swung their hands, chattering happily, allowing his visor to pick up heat signatures and file them away. Still nothing to show anyone was following them, but it was a high class bounty. Hell, other hunters could be flocking to the location if they’d managed to pick up that Hunk and Lance were on the case.

The meeting place wasn’t far and the temperature dropped as they walked. The main square was used to set up shop in the morning, all kinds of vendors laying out wares for the poor and crooked to peruse. Lance had once purchased a strange bundle of sticks, glowing like starlight, from a creature with writhing darkness where the face should have been. Xe hadn’t shown up in the same place since then and Lance was wistful about the glorious Hawkmoon hand cannon he hadn’t been able to afford at the time. Hunk often hit each stall on his endless quest for better spices and sharper tools.

Here, just before dusk when the world was soft, it was near deserted.

Lance pulled out the holopad as they walked across the square, squinting at locations, and peered around. Aha. The bakery shop across the way, closed by the looks of it, was their meeting point. Rotting metal chairs and bent tables lined the edges of the shop. Lance frowned. If their client was high class, couldn’t they at least spring for a nice place to meet? This was just bad etiquette.

Thumbing the holopad off, Lance did a quick twirl as he scanned the horizon. Most of the buildings surrounding them were tall, good sniper perches if need be, but no thermals popped up on his visor. They were alone in the square, save for a few scraggly locals looking for a place to settle for the night. Lance shrugged, gesturing for Hunk to follow.

“Closed?” Hunk read as they stopped in front of the door. “Why would it be closed?”

“Because they don’t have Google on Dvix and no one updates their open and close times,” Lance said, crossing his arms. He glanced at the horizon again, the burn of the suns dipping lower. He squinted. Hunk peered into the shop, keeping one hand tangled in Lance’s cloak just in case. Lance pursed his lips and flicked the safety off his pistol.

“I believe you are here to see me,” a rumbling voice said.

It was enough of a startle that Lance drew his gun before his mind could catch up. Hunk yanked Lance back, the rev of his arm cannon loud in the still air of the square. The alien in front of them was definitely of Galra make, impossibly tall and ridiculously purple. Bat ears stretched away from the side of his head and a patchwork eye with laser capability swivelled to stare at them. However, it was the glowing Druid arm that held all of Lance’s attention. Purple lightning connected a shoulder socket to a floating hand of pure fucking insanity. Druids, man. There was no reason for whatever they’d done.

“Well, aren’t you ugly,” Lance said. Hunk sighed beside him.

The Galra bared its teeth in an unflattering smile. “Watch your tongue, _slastaj_.”

The translator didn’t react to the phrase. “Now that we’ve gotten the terrible name calling out of the way, you should take a seat.” Lance gestured with his gun at the rotting chairs. The Galra made no move to acknowledge his request. “I insist.”

The Galra straightened his shoulders, stretching to a full height that would be imposing if Lance wasn’t used to this form of assholery. He’d stood up to and taken down far worse than this wannabe bat boy, but the lightning flicker of his druidic arm did give Lance the willies. Lance narrowed his eyes. The Galra swiveled his eye right back. Hunk shifted beside him, the glimmer of the holopad catching Lance’s peripheral. Good. They could rewatch the meeting later, just in case.

Lance narrowed his eyes. “If you’re going to be stubborn, then we might as well get this meeting underway. Terms. Bounty. Chop chop.”

The Galra sneered. “Am I to believe the two of you are the best this backwards planet has to offer?”

“Hey, we don’t have to fix your mistake, bub. We could head on home and wait while you’re roasted by high command for letting a prisoner fuck off with a weapon of mass destruction.” That got the Galra’s attention, his sharp inhale all but cementing that tidbit of information. “Yeah, don’t go strutting around like you know what’s what when we figured out exactly what the bounty entails before you even _sat down.”_

The Galra snarled, the menacing motion belittled by the way his ears fluffed up in fury. Lance grinned. “That chair’s looking mighty comfy right about now, isn’t it? Take a seat.”

The chair screeched over the metal patio, the Galra aggressively dropping himself into it. Lance sucked in a breath, waiting for the entire thing to crumple like tissue paper. It didn’t. Sighing, Lance dropped his gun back into his thigh holster. The Galra dragged the fingers of his druid hand over the steel, creating sparks.

Lance blew out a breath at the display, nonplussed. “Listen, we have about four active requests waiting for an answer, so you either start this meeting or we walk. Tick tock, bat boy.”

“ _Tiesanu, j'us buti jiaka_.” Again, the translator refused to parse the phrase. Lance raised a brow. “I am Sendak, the overseer of this quadrant. I have need of two bounty hunters to retrieve something of import.”

“Yeah, yeah, we established already that it’s a prisoner that ran off with some galaxy destroying weapon, get to the meat of the proposal.” Lance tapped his foot and Hunk nudged him, eyebrow raised. Fine. “Please.”

Sendak leaned back in the chair, the metal groaning under his weight. “The retrieval of the prisoner and the weapon he holds is to be handled with the utmost delicacy.”

“Well, good thing you contacted the only no-kill hunter on this ‘backwards planet’, huh?” Lance rocked back on his heels, noting the furious clench of Sendak’s jaw. “Best in the business, right here. You want ‘em, I retrieve ‘em. Easy as that.”

Gnashing his teeth, Sendak purposefully looked Lance up and down. “This _slastaj_ has managed to evade even the most seasoned of Galra trackers.”

“Seeing as you’re hiring out of house, why not try me? If I can’t track your fugitive, then that’s no fur off your ears. But if I do find him,” Lance cocked a hip, spreading his hands, “then you have yourself a shiny fugitive all trussed up and we get our gold. Never have to cross paths again, yeah?”

“If your retrieval skills are half as good as your ability to talk frivolities, then we have a deal.”

Lance allowed the insult to roll off his back. “You’re a sparkling endorsement of Galra hospitality.”

Sendak didn’t respond, just scratched his fingers over the metal flooring again. If it was a show of strength, Lance was unimpressed. Hunk’s tech alone could take the guy down before he stood, and Lance had three sleeper shots with bat boy’s name on it. It would just take one little twitch.

Instead, Sendak leaned back in his chair, nodding shortly. “If you successfully return the Empire’s possessions to me, you will be rewarded three battleship-class crystals.”

“And gold,” Lance said, eyebrow raised.

Sendak rolled his eye. “Yes, should you succeed.”

Lance smiled, unbothered by Sendak’s lack of faith. Beside him, Hunk shifted. Though Lance wanted to desperately take the bounty, Hunk’s reservations from before gave him pause. Galra controlled missions _were_ dangerous and Hunk’s peace of mind was priority. Catching Hunk’s eyes, Lance tilted his head in inquiry. Hunk quirked a brow right back at him, lips upturned, and nodded.

That’s all Lance needed.

Returning his attention to Sendak, Lance said, “Glad we’ve come to an agreement. So, what info can you give us on our mark? Species? Any other special weaponry that we should be concerned about? Traveling alone or have they found a friend?”

“You will know this _slastaj_ by the scar across his nose and the white of his hair. He is shaped like you.”

“Short? Tall? Gangly as shit or should I be worried about meeting up with a body builder?”

Sendak waved his good hand. “Stop talking.”

Good enough. Nyma could work her magic with it and they’d have something by tomorrow morning. “We’ll keep in touch weekly with numbers; if we find anything of interest, I’ll fire off an updated report. Otherwise, you leave me alone, I’ll leave you alone, and you’ll have your fugitive.”

Sendak stood suddenly, glaring. Lance’s fingers twitched to his gun. The hum of Hunk’s arm cannon revved through the air. Sendak huffed. “Daily reports or I will hand over this bounty to one more skilled than you.”

“Yeesh, you have a temper.” Lance scratched his nose, irritated. Sendak snarled at him. “Fine, but don’t expect them to be filled to the brim with details. We expect payment before handing over the fugitive. If those terms can’t be met, we let him scamper on free and you can find yourself a new hunting dog, got it?”

Lifting his chin, Sendak nodded. “The remaining details will be sent to you.”

With that, Sendak turned and walked away.

“That’s it?” Lance called after him. “You’re not even going to buy us something? Rude!”

Hunk sighed. “Lance.”

Sendak ignored him and kept going. Lance rocked back on his heels, getting Sendak’s thermal read on his visor just in case. Never could be too careful with the big scary types. When Sendak disappeared around the corner, Lance twisted on his heel.

“You got all that?”

Hunk tapped a few buttons, nodding. “Clear as can be. Did you have to call him bat boy?”

“Hey! Fuckhands McMike started it. Did you see what the druids did to him? No one who willingly allows some ticklefingers to mess around with his insides deserves politeness. Besides, we got a lot of nice info from him due to his temper.”

“Yeah, because you kept antagonizing him.” Hunk shook his head, fond. “Is this how you get all your clients?”

“Listen, I’m witty and hot, people don’t care what I talk about as long as I get shit done.” Lance rocked up on the balls of his feet. “The fact that bat boy here is keeping things on the down low is important. There’s no other reason to hire out of house. The Galra bounty itself doesn’t mention anything about the fugitive carrying a deadly weapon, which means —”

“They weren’t supposed to lose him.” Hunk tucked the holopad into his belt, catching Lance’s flailing hands and rubbing them between his own. “Okay, you had your fun, can we head home before Sendak comes back and tries to tear your head off?”

“Aw, babe, I know the weapons you brought could obliterate him before his arm even activated.” Lance popped up on his toes and kissed Hunk sweetly on the mouth. “But yes, home. I want to see how these weapons work in the bedroom.”

“Lance,” Hunk groaned, but he bundled Lance close and kissed him until the suns went down.

 

The packet with the information on one Fugitive 117-9875 came in later that night. Lance’s holopad pinged obnoxiously and wouldn’t shut up, no matter how far Lance buried his face in Hunk’s neck. Sighing, Lance pushed up and groped around the night table for it, flopping back down on Hunk as he opened the message up.

“Can we veto the job on principle now?” Lance groaned. “Who sends classified information at three in the morning? That’s just cruel.”

Hunk murmured something, flopping a hand over his face as the light from the holopad lit up the room. Lance yawned, squinting at the blurry text until his eyes adjusted. There was the email Sendak had first sent them, as well as Lance’s application. The docket underneath was encrypted with a passcode that only opened when Lance jabbed his thumb against the screen.

“You want me to read it out loud to you or are you going back to sleep?” Lance asked as the packet loaded. Hunk sighed, pushing himself upright, and Lance snuggled close as he held the holopad up. The download process was abysmal, but when the pages finally unlocked, there was surprisingly little information.

“Says here our mark is known as ‘the Champion’,” Lance said, yawning. “Sick ratings in the arena; wow, no wonder they want him back. Bringing in the cash and an entertainer? Look at this kill record.”

Hunk grumbled, scrolling through more of the text. “I hate those arenas. They’re terrible places where good people are forced to die.”

“Good thing we’re not in them then.” Lance kicked at the blankets, trapping his feet under Hunk’s warm calf. “Okay, so they’ve been tracking this guy for a good month and a bit now. Weird that no one has noticed their star entertainer is on the run. Wonder what excuse they came up with.”

Hunk sighed, scrubbing both hands over his face before he sagged back against the pillows. Lance followed him down, worming his way between Hunk’s thighs so he could prop the holopad on Hunk’s chest. He scrolled through the sparse summary: Galra custody for two years; likely some poor sod from a neighbouring planet that had stood out when the Galra came a-knocking.

Scrolling past the summary, Lance frowned at the place where a picture usually was. It simply held a [redacted] statement and continued with the propaganda spiel about the Champion fighting to make the Galra Empire stronger. Lance blew a raspberry, dropping his chin on Hunk’s chest as he scrolled and scrolled. The lack of a picture was irritating but nothing they couldn’t handle; there was enough info here to get them a decent head start, especially with Nyma’s spy network. They’d have to cut her in on the bounty, but that wasn’t exactly unheard of. Half of Lance’s bounty wins could be attested to Nyma and her spies. She was a legend.

She also had a steep price.

“Well, we have the information. I feel bad for this guy though.”

Hunk hummed, reaching out to press his palm to Lance’s cheek. Lance leaned into the touch, smacking a kiss to Hunk’s thumb. Hunk said, “He probably didn’t want to fight anymore.”

“Yeah, but why would you run if you were just going to steal some high tech Galra shit? That’s the easiest way to get yourself on their list. I’m sure they lose prisoners every once in a while and not just to the arena. This guy could’ve been living it up on some assbackwards planet in the middle of nowhere with the Galra shrugging in the distance.”

Hunk pushed himself into a sitting position and Lance slid down into his lap, rolling onto his back so he was comfortable. “It just doesn’t make sense. If you were running from a Galra prison ship, would you try to take something that could be used against them?”

Lance frowned, lifting up the holopad. The phrase ‘Fugitive 117-9875’ stared back at him. “I don’t know. Probably not? It depends if that weapon was crucial to my getting free.”

Drumming his fingers on Lance’s ribs, Hunk said, “Maybe that’s what it is. Besides, we might be able to bend the rules here. Sendak only wants the weapon, he said so himself.”

That got Lance’s attention. “He only wants the weapon. He doesn’t care about the fugitive.”

“Your success rate with retrievals is legendary, but it’s not just fugitives you’re good at getting back.” Hunk smiled as Lance wiggled in growing excitement. “I’m just saying.”

“No, it’s a good idea.” As were most of Hunk’s ideas; he had a way with solutions that Lance just couldn’t wrap his head around. “If we could get away with it, that would be amazing. But.” Here, Lance held up the holopad and the contract beneath it: ‘retrieval and delivery of both the fugitive and the weapon’. Lance’s thumb print stood out beside it. “Unfortunately, we won’t get paid then.”

“Ah,” Hunk said, plucking the datapad from Lance’s fingers. Lance made grabby hands at him as Hunk shut it off. The room plunged back into darkness. “Well, it was just a thought, one we can explore more tomorrow when it’s not three in the morning. I have class.”

“But I’m all keyed up. Talking shop always gets me going,” Lance whined, straddling Hunk’s stomach as Hunk got settled again. “You know what we could do instead?”

“Lance.”

“Spoilsport. No morning sex for you then.”

Hunk chuckled, reaching out to draw Lance down against his chest. “That’s a promise I know you’ll break. Go to sleep, hun.”

Sighing, Lance tucked his head under Hunk’s chin. His fingers brushed over the holopad and he sneakily brought it up to his face, flicking it on. Hunk groaned. “Lance, I swear.”

“’m just gonna read for a bit or find a nice site filled with alien porn, since _someone_ is being a responsible adult.”

“As long as you do it quietly. I teach in five hours.” Hunk slid an arm around Lance’s back, pinning him in place, and twined their legs together. Within minutes, Hunk’s breathing evened out, slow and steady, fingers going lax against Lance’s ribs. Lance thumbed through the docket again, hoping to glean any new information. Sendak was a smart cookie, unfortunately, and the docket showcased that: it contained small amounts of information, enough to nudge Lance along but not enough to be traced back to Sendak himself.

But Lance wasn’t the best of the best for no reason. He’d found and retrieved other targets with less.

Thumbing over to the video Hunk took of their meeting, Lance watched and paused and fast forwarded until his eyes blurred. Sendak was just an asshole doing an asshole’s job. But the reward he was offering was hefty, the mission easy, and the possibilities endless. They could go home if they completed this single bounty.

Could it really be that easy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment or even come say hi to me on [tumblr](http://ashinan.tumblr.com/); the comments definitely help to push me forward into posting on a more regular schedule. Thanks everyone and happy holidays!!


	4. 3.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back darlings!!! IT'S UPDATE TIME. I hope everyone had a lovely holiday season and are prepared for the season 2 drop in two weeks time (YELLING). I hope you all enjoy this chapter! I'm not sure if I'll be able to get up another one before season 2 drops but I will definitely have one for all of you the week after. ENJOY.

When they stopped at Rolo’s shop the next afternoon, Nyma was at the counter, hands coated in dust.  A stack of sleeper shells were spread out before her. She offered two to Lance without a word, her lips ticked up. “Look what the rathtar dragged in. How did things go with that Galra scum?”

“About as shitty as you’d expect,” Lance said. He pocketed the shells and turned up the charm. “ _So_ , Nyma —”

“Hunk, were you able to create that clock?” Nyma asked sweetly, leaning on the counter with a smile.

Lance blew out a breath, sullen but amused. Hunk grinned, eyes crinkling up. “Yeah, the kids loved it too! Thanks for asking.”  Hunk tucked his hand in Lance’s pocket. “Were you able to get anything out of the information I sent you this morning?”

Nodding, Nyma ducked down and retrieved a holopad, flicking it on. She typed for a few short minutes before turning it around to show the two of them. “My spies over in Lorian found a possible hit for your mark. Your mark was poking around the docks looking for travel.”

Lance perked up. “DAT?”

“Yesterday, sometime around mid-day.” Nyma handed the holopad to Hunk to peruse so she could lift two large crates down from the shelf beside her. “With this high a level of bounty, you’ll need proper equipment. We’ve made up some nice little care packages for you.”

“How much will that set us back?” Hunk asked, pausing with his fingers on the screen.

Nyma shrugged, dusting off her hands. “Considering I’m your information highway right now, a nice Balmera crystal would do just fine.”

Lance whistled, crossing his arms. “Is this when the name calling starts, because I’m sensing it’s almost time. We’re not giving you our crystal. We need it to get back home, you know, _galaxies_ away.”

“Hey, information isn’t cheap.” Nyma began to unpack the crates: guns, ammunition, two cloaking devices, a beautiful new set of armoured vambraces, and a bunch of knicknacks for Hunk to cobble together into functional and deadly doodads. Lance eyed the crate, unsure how they were going to get it all back inside. Impossible.

Hunk shook his head, delicately placing the holopad back on the counter and pushing it toward Nyma. “We can’t afford your prices. We’ll just take something from home. The payment for the information today and yesterday will be in your account tomorrow.”

Lance and Nyma shared a startled look. Hunk remained resolute. Nyma frowned, hand still inside the crate itself. Hunk slipped his hand up and around Lance’s waist before tugging him to follow. Lance resisted, just for a moment, because _stuff_. When he glanced up at Hunk to tell him so, Hunk quirked an amused brow at him. _Play along_. Oho. All right, then. Lance rarely witnessed Hunk manipulating others; he was too good that way. This was gonna be great.  

Nyma said, “Okay, wait. Hunk.”

A pause, though just for a moment. The bare quirk of Hunk’s lips betrayed his mirth, his shoulders tensing in delight as Lance hid his laughter against Hunk’s shoulder. What a little shit. Nyma sighed, oblivious. “I’m not going to send you out there without basic supplies. We’ve known each other for years. These will be on the house.”

“That’s kind of you,” Hunk said innocently. Still with the damn eyebrow. The manipulation was so painfully blatant that Lance was having a hard time concealing his glee, but it was Hunk. Nyma _adored_ Hunk. “Though we don’t want to put you out. If these could be better sold off, that might be best.”

“You’re making this difficult,” Nyma groused, crossing her arms. “Take the damn crates and get your fugitive. I expect you’ll be back to purchase any guns you’ve had your eye on, Lance.”

“Just maybe,” Lance said, twisting in Hunk’s hold to beam at Nyma. She huffed at him, at the both of them, and repacked the crates. When she finished, Hunk stacked them neatly and tested the weight, nodding.

“There’s ration bars at the bottom in case the mission goes longer than you intend.” Nyma eyed the crates. “My spies will network with me on your mark’s coordinates, but you should hit up a few of my contacts when you reach the docks. Overall, it should be easy.”

“It’s never easy, Nyma.” Lance leaned forward on the counter; Nyma bumped her nose against his with a sigh. He smiled. “Thanks for always having our backs.”

Nyma waved a hand. “I do love to watch you leave. Keep in touch.”

Lance shot finger guns at her as they left.

 

They’d lucked out with the mark being on planet, though Lance had no idea why the mark had chosen Dvix to hide out on of all places. Granted, there weren’t any Galra prisons or Gladiator Rings nearby, which made it a relatively safe sector. With only Sendak as the highest command in this area, the mark would just need to continue walking circles around bat boy and he would be fine. Not only would Lance bag this mark, he would get to rub it in Sendak’s stupid flat nose that he was the _best_ for a reason.

The Lorian docks were on the mainland, along a stretch of canyon so deep that the bottom had never been explored. Lorian itself was much larger than Ikrain. The docks fed right into the capital city, a glowing testament of power and grace flanked by poverty and ill intentions. The inner city housed the planet’s most elite, with the castle home to the governing bodies. They didn’t care about the smaller settlements; Ikrain was often ignored in lieu of the shinier and more prosperous sections of the planet. Made it the perfect hub for those like Lance.

They docked easy and disembarked, Hunk pulling up Nyma’s contact. Lance clicked over his visor, checking up on the wire and adjusting the channel to filter Lorian news through. The docks were more pristine here, high tech and fanciful, guarded by a various host of Galra sentries and their handlers. Each ship was upgraded. Each pilot was decked out in fancy armour and fancier flight suits. Lance raised a brow as a Twil eyed him from across the way, her papers being read by a sentry.

“This place always gives me the heebie-jeebies,” Lance said.

“It’s beautiful here.” Hunk gestured, beaming. “The tech alone could greatly improve Rolo’s band, as well as the lives of many Ikrains. I know my kids wanted to go on a field trip here.”

Lance sighed fondly. “Only you would teach a bunch of alien children about field trips. That’s adorable. Did you include permission slips too?”

“Of course I did.”

Lance snickered, following as Hunk led them through the docking stations and toward their first contact. They made it past security without any qualms (well, only after Lance bribed the guard so he could keep his gun) and met the spy in the back alleys of the dock itself.

They gleaned nothing new. The mark hadn’t shown his face since yesterday. The information was spotty at best: kept his face hidden, asked low questions in broken Galra, somehow had acquired enough coin to bribe half the city into keeping quiet about him. Nyma apparently paid better.

While Hunk thanked the spy with a few silver coins on hand, Lance fiddled with his visor again, opening the bounty page. The Galra controlled bounty was missing from the top of the boards and he had several messages, all from Sendak. Not even twenty four hours out and already he was being hounded. Brilliant.

They talked to a few more spies, gathering nothing but whispers on the wind, before Lance dragged Hunk over to one of the market stalls littering the street. Lorian was known for its cuisine, though they were far more expensive than Ikrain. Lance counted out coin and decided to risk it. When were they planning on coming back to Lorian?

Once they finished, the next spy they hit up gave them something useful. Xe stood just up to Lance’s waist, xir single eye milky white and swirling. Xir three fingered hand tugged on Lance’s belt as xe relayed the information: “Yeah, saw your guy wanderin’ down near the docks. Wasn’t asking for passage or nothin’, was just lookin’. Talk to some o’the pilots and they’ll tell you what’s what.”

The checks to get back _into_ the docks were easier now that the guards knew their faces. Lance resented that. Stupid surveillance system. At least the pilots were exponentially more helpful. A Ygrael, tall and with blooms adorning xir head, added some troubling news: their mark had with him a small anthropoid, one that made the electronics go a bit haywire, and who could bargain down any price with ease. Sendak only required one fugitive. If their mark had absconded with a second…

The last pilot, a gangly Alrus with its stalk eyes and spindly fingers, had informed them that their mark had been by just that morning, inquiring after purchase of a ship. No one had been willing to give the mark the time of day, though the Alrus had quoted him a price just out of curiosity. Their mark had left shortly after, quiet. It was the nugget they needed to get the investigation started.

“Think our fugitive found a friend?” Lance asked as they made their way back to the ship.

“The smaller creature with him?” Hunk opened the panel door, ushering Lance back inside their ship. “Maybe. I wonder about the electronics. There aren’t many species native to this area that have that kind of influence.”

“Whereas someone from Zarkon’s personal Camp of Horrors might be from a different sector.” Lance flopped down on the spare cot, rolling his face into the pillow. Dust tickled his nose and he sneezed. “Tomorrow we’ll hit up a few of the shops past the docks, see if the mark is wandering on through, and I’ll find a good nesting area to keep an eye out. Think you could gather some of the spies together to sort through intel?”

“That could be difficult. Spies aren’t known for wanting to share information amongst each other.” Hunk sat down beside Lance, palm against the small of his back, and Lance arched up into the touch. Hunk brushed a thumb under his shirt, warm against Lance’s skin.

Lance hummed, wiggling until he was pressed against Hunk’s side. “We have a lot of solid leads. Pretty good for the first day out.”

“Do you think —” Hunk started. He paused, thumb rubbing into the ridge of Lance’s spine. Lance twisted his head to the side. Anxiety caught in the corners of Hunk’s mouth, pulling it down in a worried frown. Lance pushed up to his knees and Hunk’s hand folded against the other in his lap.

Hunk swallowed. “You know I don’t come on enough of these missions with you.”

“Well, yeah, but that’s because you’re a kickass teacher helping small aliens understand how cool clocks are.” Lance wiggled forward, dropping into Hunk’s lap. Hunk steadied him, eyebrows furrowed and his jaw tight. “What’s up, babe? Something got you all in knots?”

Hunk fiddled with the hem of Lance’s shirt, head bowed. Lance peppered his temple with kisses until Hunk finally sighed, relenting. “What happens when a mark finds you before you find them?”

Lance paused. Huh. “Well, it doesn’t happen a lot, but usually I get a shot off and they go down. Sometimes I run. More often than not, I’m the one finding them so it’s not a problem.”

“This Champion guy has an actual kill record in the arena and it’s high. He’s named Champion for a reason. If he gets close to you —” Hunk stalled, wrapping both arms around Lance’s waist and squeezing tight, face against Lance’s throat. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

 _Oh_. Lance wrapped his arms around Hunk’s neck, burying his nose in Hunk’s hair. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you here with me. That means it’ll be okay. No one will get to me with you around, right?”

Hunk nodded, though he didn’t let up. Lance soothed his hands over Hunk’s shoulders and up into his hair, petting and consoling. Throughout their years, their schedules left little room for one to tag along with the other. The few missions Hunk had been on with Lance were scattered, usually easy tag and bags that lasted barely a day. Of the twelve times Lance had been made before he could take down a mark, he had only been in serious danger once. Hunk had not been with him, thankfully. Lance still bore that scar along his left hip, the one Hunk was currently running his thumb almost obsessively over.

“Galra bounties come with more risk but better reward,” Lance said. Hunk didn’t reply. “Three Balmera crystals and a literal planet’s worth in gold. A chance to fly home and see our families. That has to be worth a little risk, yeah?”

Another nod, this one more subdued. Lance waited it out, brushing Hunk’s hair back. Whenever Hunk was tying himself into knots, patience was always key. That, and distraction, though this tenuous moment was too fragile to break with a suggestion of something frivolous.

When Hunk finally relaxed, his spine going loose, he leaned back with Lance still in his arms. “If something goes wrong, we leave, okay?”

“Okay,” Lance agreed immediately. The contract wouldn’t allow such leniency, but Lance would figure something out if it came to that. The passage on ‘incarceration’ and ‘penalty bordering on treason’ rang in the back of his thoughts. Hunk’s comfort was important; Hunk never had to know. Besides, Lance had never gone back on a bounty, even when he’d been shot. Get in, get the bounty, get out. Easy.

Lance cupped Hunk’s cheeks and kissed him sweet on the mouth, lingering when they parted. “It’ll be okay. You’ve got my back.”

Hunk nodded, bumping their noses together. “Always.”

“Then we’re golden.”

Hunk’s smile was small, adoring. Lance brushed his thumbs over the corner of Hunk’s mouth and Hunk tilted his head up for another kiss.

As long as they were together, everything would be alright.

 

The next morning they wandered through the shops and talked with the merchants they found. Lance kept a lookout, flirting when needed, visor up and cataloguing the aliens in the crowds. Maybe if they were lucky, the mark would walk right on by. Wouldn’t that be a hoot? Hunk narrowed down their playing field to a path leading from the docks to the inner city.

“Should I take the shot when we spot him?” Lance asked, buying two meals from the vendor on the street. More coin lost but hey, it was good. Hunk scrunched up his nose at the prices but took the meal anyway, leading Lance to a series of small tables in the square.

Sitting down, Hunk picked apart his street meat. “I think it depends. If he’s by himself, it might be a good opportunity to take him down and not risk getting caught. But if he has that small anthropoid with him, we might have to wait until he’s alone.”

Lance nodded, biting into his meal. It was similar to a sandwich, though the vibrant rainbow of the vegetables and the cut of the meat was unlike anything Lance had ever seen. Tasted good. “Dude has to know someone is after him by now, especially if bat boy has tried and failed so many times. He’ll probably be on the lookout for anyone suspicious, like us, and bolt at the first sign of danger. He’s managed to evade recapture this far, let’s not give him a reason to run away again.”

Hunk pursed his lips but didn’t argue, polishing off his street meat and filching some of Lance’s fallen vegetables. They chatted quietly about the mission, the orders, and the school that Hunk would have to leave behind. When they got back on track, reconnaissance was next on the agenda. They asked questions and received no answers. Most of the shops lost interest when it became apparent Lance wasn’t willing to part with his coin. The dual suns traded space.

They loitered beside the inner city gates, chatting with the guards and poking for information. Again, the coin became a factor and again, Lance refused to part with it. This city was eating through their savings like Lance’s family at a free buffet. Ridiculous. Lance huffed and Hunk pulled him away before the guards could get testy.

The day wasted away, the dual suns falling ever closer to their respective sides. Shadows stretched long over the sidewalks, teasing the shops until they closed, and Lance kicked at the street. Nada. No sightings, no concrete places to lay traps, nothing.

Shoving into Hunk’s space, Lance groaned. “My feet hurt.”

“You’re a bounty hunter. You can’t be tired,” Hunk said, grinning.

“Just because I’m all around awesome doesn’t mean my feet are impervious.” Lance leaned heavier against Hunk’s side, worming under his arm. “Head back to the ship? At this rate we’re going to break into those ration packages.”

“There’s food on the ship, you baby,” Hunk said fondly. Lance flapped a hand against Hunk’s side, pinching, and Hunk shoved him off with a yelp. Lance grinned, bounding forward a few steps before he turned to walk backwards in front of Hunk.

Rounding the corner, Lance nearly collided with another late night walker. The stranger startled back, tattered hood slipping just enough to reveal a startling shock of white hair. Lance blinked, shoulders tensing when he instinctively recognized a threat; guy was a fighter, a bruiser probably. Best not to irritate him. Before Lance could apologize, the stranger darted a hand up to draw his hood back over his face. A face that carried a thick scar along the bridge of the stranger’s nose.

 _A scar_.

“Oh,” Lance whispered instead.

The stranger ducked his head, mumbled a quick apology in accented Galra, and hurried down the street. Lance watched him go. Hunk hooked his fingers around Lance’s wrist and Lance twisted his hand to thread their fingers together absently. The stranger disappeared around the far corner.

“Huh,” Hunk said. “He looked familiar.”

Lance shook himself out of his stupor and whirled, excitement curling up his spine. “Hunk –”

“He was polite at least.”

“Babe, I swear –”

Hunk tugged Lance into following him back to the docks, none the wiser. “Come on.”

Squirming, Lance craned his neck. The stranger was long gone. Dammit. Lance tugged. Hunk tugged harder. Lance huffed out an exasperated breath and said, “Okay, listen, this is important.”

“Almost there!” Hunk said loudly as they reached the dock check-in point. Lance frowned, clicking on his visor. If he couldn’t see the stranger physically, maybe... He glanced back again and there, just beyond where the stranger had disappeared, was a red blob of a thermal outline.

 _Interesting_.

Lance ducked his head, following Hunk through security. He clicked through feed after feed on his visor, rewinding the last few seconds of his encounter with the stranger. Scar. White forelock of hair, though black and short along the sides. Grey eyes. Tattered, worn down cloak.

Scar. White hair. Humanoid? The hood hadn’t slipped far enough back to give Lance a real impression of species, but the stranger had definitely been ‘shaped like them’. Probably had some telling feature under that cloak that would out him as a fugitive. Pointed ears? Scales? Embarrassing but gaily coloured fins?

Regardless, _bingo_.

Crowding Lance inside, Hunk slipped the cargo bay door closed and sagged. Lance whirled, bumping right up into Hunk’s space, excitement like a live wire in his gut. “That was our mark!”

Hunk nodded, eyes wide.

“He was right there!”

Another nod, this one more frantic, and Lance bumped their foreheads together, beaming. “We found the mark! Hunk! He was _right there_. We know he’s still on planet. We have visual!”

“Someone was watching him,” Hunk blurted, gripping Lance’s sides. “I couldn’t see who they were, but our mark has a shadow and we were seconds from being made.”

“Their new best friend?” Lance asked, pulling back.

Hunk didn’t allow him to go far. “There’s no way of knowing for sure. They could have been anyone: bounty hunter, the little alien that’s been seen with him; I just don’t know. But with how they kept an eye on us as we left, I’d say it’s the latter.”

Lance nodded, stepping out of Hunk’s hold to push further into the ship. “So, we have possible confirmation on a second player. That’s good to know.”

While Lance flopped down on the cot, Hunk paced. “You saw him up close, right? He’s a lot smaller than I was expecting.”

“Guy was definitely packing some serious muscle, but he definitely wasn’t what I was expecting considering he’s been evading Sendak like crazy. Though smaller aliens do tend to blend in better around here.”

Hunk nodded, he didn’t seem appeased. Lance waited him out. Hunk paused in front of Lance, opened his mouth, and then shook his head. He continued to pace, a tight circuit of anxiety, and Lance sat up. Ho boy. Patience.

Hunk ran both hands through his hair, dislodging the ribbon. Finally, he spoke, tight and a tinge panicked. “He couldn’t have known who we were. He would have gone right for you if he thought you were a threat.”

“Hey, hey, whoa,” Lance stood, halting Hunk’s frantic pacing. “He had no idea, for sure. I was just a nice innocent bystander out for a walk with my honey. Nothing nefarious there.”

Hunk turned away, jaw ticking, brows elbowing together until wrinkles appeared in the space between. Reaching up, Lance smoothed his thumb over the indents, patient. Hunk caught his wrist. Lance sighed. “Babe, come on. We’ve read about the danger, sure, and the record in the docket wasn’t anything to sneeze at, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to get to me. Trust me, okay?”

“Can we - sit?” Hunk settled on the cot, reaching out for Lance and tugging him in close. Lance nudged between Hunk’s knees, wrapping his arms around Hunk’s shoulders. Jittery energy buzzed under his skin, though Hunk’s need for stillness was an understanding between them. Lance was perpetual movement. Hunk was grounded and immobile. When they switched states, it was important. _This_ was important.

While Hunk breathed, Lance remained still. His thoughts ran. They had _visual_. That was already way more than Lance had been expecting on the first day. His visor was still lit up with the freeze frame of the stranger’s face in the corner: startled, wary, _tired_. Distinctly humanoid, yeah, but Lance had once mistook a Protoss as Terran and that had been…interesting to say the least.

“You wanna make dinner?” Lance asked at last, combing his fingers through Hunk’s hair. “My Mida needs a tune up too if you want.”

Hunk chuckled, pulling back. “No, it doesn’t. I customized your Mida and it’s flawless.”

“Aren’t you humble?” Lance snickered and Hunk smiled. Lance stepped back, allowing Hunk up, and followed him into the makeshift kitchen.

His mind ran with all the avenues that had just been opened up for them.

 

They were out before the sun rose the next day, the guards grumbling as Lance breezed through the checks with reckless abandon. They had so much to _do_. They’d mapped out routes over dinner, talked scenarios as they cleaned up, lobbed locations for the camera traps as they got ready for bed. Lance was buzzing with the need to get moving. The faster they could capture their mark, the quicker they could get back to _Earth_ , back to _home._

This was Lance’s favourite part: set up cameras and track through facial recognition. Years back, Hunk had created and perfected a series of portable cameras that could be dropped at random locations, relaying information back to a central station at any given moment. The cameras could be used for tracking a mark through various sectors, weeding the mark out through facial recognition software, or just to have an extra pair of eyes in case of discovery.

With the lucky visual from last night, they could begin combing through the population of Lorian to flush out and retrieve their fugitive. If the mark was going to wander on through to the docks again, then Hunk’s special little cameras would catch a nice snapshot and relay that information back to the computers. From there, a pattern would form, a pathway for Lance to track, and voila. Captured mark, claimed bounty, home. It had worked on all but a few of Lance’s missions.

While Hunk made small talk with the vendors, Lance plopped cameras into innocuous places, flicking them on. A tiny red light flashed before going dim. Lance grabbed Hunk and they continued on, rinse and repeat. By the time lunch rolled around, they had circled the main square as well as the streets leading to the docks. The cameras were all set up.

Now all Lance had to do was find a nice nesting perch and wait for the mark to show his scarred face again.

Purchasing two meals from a street cart, Lance handed one to Hunk and brought up the footage on his visor again. Scar. Humanoid. Still didn’t know what was under the hood, but as long as they had the general construction of the face it would work. Though if the hood had slipped _just_ a bit more, it definitely would’ve helped. Lance was hoping scales. Maybe an extra limb! Their mark had been built solid; running into the dude’s chest had been like bouncing off a wall. Maybe metal in the skin?

So many possibilities.

Just as he was about to bite into his lunch, a purple little envelope labelled ‘BAT BOI’ appeared in the top corner of Lance’s visor. He groaned. _Sendak_. Right. The daily reports were an irritating addition to the whole mission and Sendak’s refusal to let it go was driving Lance a bit loopy. He fished the holopad out of Hunk’s back pocket and flicked through to his messages, typing out a quick ‘nothing new, stop bugging me, hope your day is the worst’ before sending it off.

“This square would be a good place to cut through, yeah?” Hunk asked, polishing off his lunch. Lance slipped the holopad back into Hunk’s pocket and tucked into his own meal.

“Sure? Reminds me of the market square back on Ikrain.” Lance chewed thoughtfully, gaze flicking up to the buildings and their rooftops. Most were towering, impossible structures of rugged rock and glistening glass. “Nice architecture? Super shiny.”

Hunk rolled his eyes, grinning. “All right, wise guy: if you wanted to get to the inner city, where would you go?”

Lance scanned the sky, the shops with their high rise ceilings and rooftops overlapping neatly. The buildings tangled together, though areas where the street connected with the main square were left wide and open. Beyond, monsters of metal and canyon rock rose from behind a wall made of silver marble.  “That-a-way.”

“Okay. What about the docks?”

Doing an about turn, Lance said, “Opposite direction.”

Nodding, Hunk did his own turn around. “How many of the back alleys lead to this square and only this square?”

“Dunno. Probably a lot of them.” Lance popped the remainder of his lunch in his mouth. “Whatcha thinking, babe?”

Hunk reached for the holopad with a furrowed brow, flicking it on, and bringing up a map of the city. Lance ducked under Hunk’s arm, draping it neatly over his shoulders, and wasn’t quite sure what Hunk was up to. Most of the walkways out of the dock all converged on this location before branching out again. It was a spiderweb network with the market square at its center. Lance cocked his head. Hunk zoomed in on the docks, followed a pathway to their position, and then to the inner city.

“Perch in the square,” Hunk said. Lance blinked, glancing up at him. Hunk grinned. “You’ll get your fugitive easy if you perch here. The square has two routes to the inner city. If you perch here —”

“Then the mark has no choice but to wander on by,” Lance finished, grinning. Rarely did the critters in this sector look up, which gave Lance an edge. Lance scanned the area. Off to the left, near the food vendor they’d just purchased from, a haphazard stack of boxes led to a craggy lip in the wall. The perfect leg up to the perfect perch. Excellent.

Hunk tangled their fingers together, regaining Lance’s attention. “We’ll have to rely on the cameras to make sure he’s not taking another path, but if this map is right? We should see him in the next few days, if not tonight.”

“See, this is why my missions are so easy with you along.” Lance peppered kisses against Hunk’s knuckles, grinning at the blush that stole over Hunk’s cheeks. “You’re a genius!”

“You’re just saying that.” Hunk ducked his head, pleased.

“Of course I’m saying it because it’s true.” Lance bounced up on his toes. “I’m going to run around and see what perches I can access from ground level. You head back to the ship and get us set up on the network, see if our mark has been by any of the cameras, yeah?”

“Okay.” Hunk stepped forward, smacking a kiss against Lance’s mouth. “Be careful.”

“Always am.” Lance saluted before taking off for the far side.

Using the customers in front of the vendor shop as a distraction, Lance slipped behind the cart and scaled the boxes, jumping up to snag the craggy lip. He scrambled for a firm hold, legs kicking for momentum, and swung himself up and onto the next ledge. The next jump wasn’t so easy, his current ledge a crumbling mess. He leapt. Barely caught the edge and pushed off the wall to grab the next section, swallowing against the burn along his palms.

As he pulled himself up along the side, he eyed the awning stretching out over the rooftop. Tricky jump, for sure. Lance ground the balls of his feet into the ledge he was on, bent his knees, and jumped. Before his momentum would swing him off, he scrambled up and onto the rooftop.

Flopping onto his back, Lance threw both hands into the air with a weak cheer. Holy crow, there had to be an easier way to do that. Most species in this sector didn’t have the characteristics that would allow them to scale the wall like Lance had. Jumping _and_ climbing were a uniquely human adaptation so far out on Dvix. Made it easy for Lance to outwit his marks. If they couldn’t fathom someone being up high, then Lance could surprise them. Gaining his breath back, Lance pushed to his feet and hissed at the sting of his fingers. Ah well.

The view was stunning. From above, the inner city was visible and the brilliant gem of the castle shone in the dying light of the twin suns. The outer city limits mimicked the canyon walls, all grey and red dust, cobbled together with sparse decorations of wealth in between. The inner city was polished, pristine like the docks itself. The castle was a glowing marble of pure white stone, shaped into jagged spires that pierced the sky. Jewels of sapphire and sandstone glimmered along the windowsills, catching the light and twisting it into a kaleidoscope of colour that splashed over the grounds below. The castle sloped down into the courtyard itself, surrounded by another wall. Lance crouched, taking it all in. Definitely couldn’t get a view like this in Ikrain.

Scouring the rooftops for the proper position, Lance pondered a spot between the bakery and a knick knack shop as his final nesting location. His visor pinged, an incoming call from Hunk. Lance answered. “You back at home?”

“The guards think I sold you,” Hunk answered and Lance choked on a laugh.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Hunk chuckled, a visual appearing in the topmost corner of the visor. His jacket was off, the sleeves pushed up past his elbows. Grease already stained his fingers. “One of them asked if I’d gotten a decent price for you. I didn’t know what to say?”

“Am I going to be harassed coming back into the docks?” There was enough cover on the left that it would allow Lance a good vantage point. He scrambled over to it. “Because I already had to give that asshole two silver and that was a damn rip off.”

“You’ll be fine,” Hunk said, grinning. “Find a spot yet?”

Lance crouched, running his hand over the tile. A touch rough, but nothing he hadn’t dealt with before. “Yup. I’m just going to do a simple sweep tonight and see if we get anything worthwhile. If our mark is out there, I’ll spot him. Anything on the cams?”

On the tiny screen, Hunk moved about, equipment strewn around him. Hunk shook his head. “There’s nothing yet. Did you pack your stuff for your perch?”

Scoffing, Lance unhooked the bag from his back, digging through it. “What kind of bounty hunter would I be if I was _unprepared?_ You insult me.”

Hunk just laughed. Lance yanked out the cloaking devices Nyma had gifted them. They worked on a refractory basis, turning the light back on itself and creating a mirror-like surface. Lance toed his way up to the edge of the rooftop, peering over the side. The market square was beginning to empty, dusk approaching fast. Lance worked the first cloaking device into the tile, steadying it, and flicked it on. It would grant him roughly six hours of steady cloaking before going offline; they took nothing to charge, but required the energy of a Balmera crystal. Getting the other three in place, Lance flicked the last one on and nodded as they all whirred to life, a pocket of invisibility appearing around him.

Next, Lance yanked free two thermal blankets, laying the first one out on the rough tile as close to the edge as he dared. The surface would be better with multiple blankets, but Lance wasn’t willing to give up the other one just so his knees wouldn’t hate him in the morning. The canyon could drop to near freezing temperatures once the sun went down. Better warm and cozy than freezing his fingers off.

Finally, he pulled free his pride and joy: the compact rifle case at the bottom of his bag. While Rolo’s newest batch of sniper rifles were gorgeous, Lance had yet to go wrong with one of his oldest and most faithful, a Zen Meteor with excellent Hunk modifications. Nyma had gifted it to Lance after he beat her in a sharpshooter contest and it had been with him ever since. Reassembling all the parts, Lance checked the balance and settled the rifle in place.

The suns tumbled their way down to the horizons. It was a waiting game now.

Hunkering down, Lance adjusted the scope and scanned the perimeter. Most of the locals had disappeared from the square, though the crowds would converge again around dinner time. Lance swept over the main entrances to the square, and sighted over to the street leading to the inner city. If that’s where their mark was heading, then Lance would catch him. Lance wasn’t going to miss this opportunity. Not now.

“So, would you buy the biggest surf shop in Hawaii or would you open up your own school?” Lance asked, gaze flicking up to Hunk. Hunk blinked before his gaze went soft and far away. Lance fought not to focus on it.

“I’d like to open my own school. Teaching these last few years has been really rewarding, you know? I love the kids, even though none of them are human.” Hunk smiled fondly and Lance couldn’t help smiling back. “A surfing school would be fun, right? Think the kids would like that?”

“You kidding? They’d love it! What’s not to love? You, water, surfing. A perfect combination.” Lance swallowed. “It’s been ages since I saw a wave. Or a proper ocean.”

Hunk was quiet, fiddling with something between his fingers. Lance wiggled his hips, getting comfortable. “We might not see anything tonight. The mark, I mean. We were in the square for most of the day and didn’t notice anything.”

Frowning, Hunk said, “That doesn’t mean he couldn’t have blended in with the crowd, though I’m not picking up any matches on the monitors.”

“I’ll stay for about three hours, till just after the dinner rush. He might make an appearance when there aren’t as many people milling about, yeah?”

Hunk nodded. Time marched on, the streets filling and emptying as the suns touched the lip of the horizon. Shops lit up, their algae green light flooding the square. Lance adjusted the settings on his rifle to compensate for the change in lighting as the sky darkened. Still nothing. Hunk tinkered in the video, his voice a soothing balm whenever Lance tuned in to what he was saying. It was mostly nonsense. One time it was a recipe. Something about a sorbet? Oh, now it was about the kids and the clocks they all wanted to make. The perfect white noise that Lance could use to focus himself on.

By hour three, Lance was cramped and uncomfortable, the temperature dropping significantly with the disappearance of the suns. The blanket wasn’t quite warm enough and Lance fought to keep his teeth from chattering. The cloaking devices were still going strong, but it would be easier to save them for tomorrow. Lance dropped his forehead down on the tile for a moment to allow his neck a rest.

Rolling his face against the tile, Lance mumbled, “Okay, okay, almost.” He lifted his head and did one final sweep.

Still nothing.

Hunk perked up on the monitor. “We’re at hour three, love. Pack it in?”

Lance groaned, wiggling his fingers and toes. His knuckles were numb with cold. “Yeah, he’s not gonna show. I’m heading back.”

Arching his back, Lance stretched feeling into his legs and the tense line of his shoulders. That was going to hurt come morning. Dammit. He hopped to his feet, staggering a moment when they prickled with pins and needles. Grumbling, he picked up the cloaking device charges and turned them off, careful to stay low just in case anyone looked up. Once he’d packed them back into his bag, he dismantled Zen Meteor and shrugged the bag over his shoulders. The climb down was a tad harrowing, mostly because Lance’s limbs were still half asleep, but he touched down safely. The algae glow followed him back to the docks, Lance rolling his shoulders in agitation. There was something...off. Not like he was being followed, but watched.

He paused, glancing over his shoulder. Nothing. The street was quiet, walkways empty. Clicking on the visor didn’t bring up anything new. No one was there.

Huh.

The feeling dissipated the further away from the square he got., and Lance eventually just chalked it up to end-of-the-day paranoia. When he hit the dock crossing, he was subjected to three guards snickering at him and a third asking what he’d done. Lance didn’t deign to answer, rolling his eyes and paying their stupid fee. They let him in, but not without a few more ribbed insults, mostly about his ‘cost’. Lance rolled his eyes. Hunk wasn’t going to get out of this one easy.

When the ship came into view, Lance stretched and allowed himself inside.

Official first day of recon done. The message icon blinked, Sendak demanding another report. Lance ignored it and dragged Hunk to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment or even come say hi to me on [tumblr](http://ashinan.tumblr.com/); the comments definitely help to push me forward into posting on a more regular schedule.


	5. 4.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday dahlings! Can you all believe season 2 was just a week ago? I can't. I've been slowly drowning in Voltron Hell and that has pushed me harder to write on this story. I just wanted to put a PSA here: this fic is primarily rated M for violence. However, there will also be some sexy parts that are M rated as well, and this chapter has one of them. Just be aware!!
> 
> Special thanks to [Lisa Onions](http://butteredonions.tumblr.com) and [Darling Mumble](http://mumblefox.tumblr.com) for keeping me on track with this story. Enjoy!!

Days two to five remained irritatingly uneventful. Lance wandered the rooftops, setting up new locations and new viewpoints, but the mark stayed elusively out of view. Nyma’s spies stuck with their information: the mark was here, perusing shops, poking around the docks, there and gone again. Hunk couldn’t figure it out. Lance followed the pathways the mark would need to take, sticking to the rooftops and jumping from ledge to ledge. Nada.

Frustration thumped against Lance’s temples, his jaw aching from the clench of his teeth. No visible pattern. A constant stream of information stating that yes, they were right; yes, the mark was here; yes, they just had to wait. It was enough to drive anyone batty.

The worst of it was in the form of Sendak and his progressively more demanding messages. He’d graduated from simple text to voice memos that Lance had to open to delete: unhappy with their progress; furious about the lack of respect; impatient over Lance’s progress notes and the simple ‘we’re working on it’ message that Lance always sent. He had nothing more to report and Sendak would just have to deal with it. They had their mark figured out, had his general location, but they couldn’t pin him down.

It was a waiting game and Lance was itching for a firefight.

Skidding over the tiles, Lance hurried his way to the location that allowed him a good view of the docks but not the inner city. It was a gambit, one Hunk had suggested the night before: since Lance had positioned himself between the entrances of both the inner city and the docks, there was the possibility that while he was scanning one area, the mark was slipping by through the other. Yanking out Zen Meteor, Lance started to assemble her, checking the scope for damage. Hunk tinkered away on the screen to the top right, quietly checking the cameras every couple of minutes just in case. Lance sighed. He balanced the rifle over his crossed knees and dropped his elbows onto the chamber.

“This is ridiculous.”

Hunk paused, gaze flicking up. “The bounties usually go faster?”

“Yeah. Once first contact is made, I can usually bag ‘em within twenty four hours. This is bordering on insanity. I can’t believe we broke into Nyma’s rations last night.”

Hunk chuckled. “Well, I went out to the market square and found a nice grocery stall. Dinner’ll be better tonight.”

“See, this is why you’re my favourite,” Lance said. That garnered a sweet smile.

Groaning, Lance straightened his shoulders and hefted his rifle up. Dusk was eating away at the lingering remnants of light, the algae lanterns coming on to a glow of green. Dropping the sight, Lance pushed to his knees and reached for the first cloaking device.

“All right, night five. Let’s do this.” With the last cloaking device on, Lance settled in to wait. He was  tempted to just flop back and stare up at the stars, at the moons waxing and waning above. That steady irritation in his temples morphed into a low headache, spreading achingly slow over his brow. He wouldn’t bother with a six hour sit-and-wait; hell, if he didn’t see anything in the first hour, he’d call it quits.

Huffing, Lance flopped down on his stomach and swung the scope around and over to the main entrance. Not like they’d get anything tonight anyway. It was either Nyma’s spies or something else; perhaps they’d startled the mark when they bumped into him. Wouldn’t be the first time.

“Hey, hun?” Hunk said suddenly. Lance flicked his gaze up. Hunk was leaned forward, nearly out of view. “I think I got something.”

“What?” Lance perked up, sweeping the scope to the left and then the right. “Really?”

Hunk swung back into frame. “Yeah. Facial recognition has a solid hit. Though there was something weird about it.”

Tucking Zen Meteor tight against himself, Lance waited. “Weird how? ETA?”

“Thirty seconds, if less. There was a shadow. It wasn’t quite visible but there was definitely something near the mark.”

“Gotcha. You have a good view?”

Hunk nodded. He worried his bottom lip. “Lance, what’s changed? Why is he showing up now?”

“Who knows?” Lance narrowed his eyes, rolling his shoulders back before locking them into place. His heart rabbited against his chest, adrenaline buzzing at the base of his spine. “Maybe he got cocky. Close?”

“Ten seconds.”

Breathing out, Lance flexed his finger on the trigger. It should only take one sleeper shell to knock the guy out; he wasn’t that tall and, though built like a bruiser, the shells were potent. Lance breathed in. Held it until his lungs burned, his ribs ached, and released it explosively.

Movement caught his peripheral and Lance swung his scope to the side, immediately adjusting the range. There he was. Same shitty cloak, a hood obscuring his face, but the telltale white tuft of hair was just visible. Walking fast and with his head down, Hunk’s ‘shadow’ walking right beside him and within Lance’s line of sight.

“Well, shit, your shadow is a person.” Lance puffed out another breath, adjusting the scope in hopes of finding another angle. Unfortunately, the interloper was in the damn way, almost perfectly. Xe was talking animatedly with their target, five fingers gesturing in tight circles. Hooded, like their mark, but dark hair curled around the edges of the fabric. A flash of a strong jaw. A dancer’s grace, steps light and ready to move in an instant. Bodyguard? Lance narrowed his eyes. Usually he was all for surprises, but he’d been squirreled away on the rooftops for too long and irritation still bubbled in his blood.

“What do you mean ‘a person’?” Hunk asked. Lance kept his target in sight, though the interloper was definitely going to cause issues.

“They’re walking right in my line of fire. Probably a bodyguard, though based on the Champion’s kill record, I don’t know why he needs one. Real irritating, regardless.”

A hiss and one of the cloaking devices sparked. Lance startled, recoiling away from the scope, and the device settled, the shield around him flickering. Lance frowned. “Uh, question. Our cloaking tech is solid, yeah?”

“It should be?” Hunk went quiet a moment, his typing filtering through. Lance eyed the device before settling back in. The mark had stopped just on the outskirts of the square, near one of the food vendors that remained open. The interloper stood right in front of him, like an asshole. Lance sighed noisily.

Hunk paused. “There’s nothing showing up on screen. What happened? Are you compromised?”

“Not yet,” Lance said honestly. The mark was paying. They were getting food and still Lance couldn’t find a clear shot. “I’m going to have to drop the bodyguard too if I want a shot at the mark.”

Static met his statement and Lance blinked, gaze flicking up. Hunk’s screen was black, silent, and panic twisted hot up Lance’s throat. “Hunk?”

Nothing.

Lance pushed to his knees, tapping viciously on the visor, trying another channel, anything. “Hunk! Babe, are you there?”

The static was terrifying, distorting any reply. Lance’s thoughts twisted sharply, panic a bubble in his stomach. What if the mark had another with him? What if they’d somehow located the ship and Hunk inside? What if Lance was too busy trying to take down some asshole in the streets when an enemy could’ve snuck up from behind and _attacked Hunk?_

Grabbing his rifle, Lance began to disassemble it. All at once, Hunk’s screen lit up and his voice barreled through: “Lance!”

“Ow, _Ch_ _rist,_ ” Lance hissed, dropping Zen Meteor in surprise. Relief washed down Lance’s spine, his fingers jumping up to cup the ear piece. Hunk’s expression warred between worried and terrified and Lance could barely breathe past the lump in his throat. “Hunk, babe, never do that to me again. Where did you go? Are you okay?”

“I didn’t go anywhere. You went completely silent.” Hunk pushed up from his chair, leaning closer to the screen. Lance breathed out. “Something’s wrong. Get out of there.”

“No, no, we’re okay. It’s fine. Are you okay?” Lance repeated.

Hunk nodded and Lance sagged, exhaling sharply. Okay. Settle. Reorient. He picked up Zen Meteor and snapped the scope back into place, hunkering back down on the tile. The rifle settled back into place and Lance sighted through. The mark and his friend were walking again, but this time the interloper was just out of step. Okay.

“Lance,” Hunk said, demanded.

Lance licked his lips. “We waited five days for this asshole to show up. I’m taking him down.”

Hunk’s screen went fuzzy, his image distorted. His voice crackled with static. Lance ignored the prickle of unease even when Hunk said, “This isn’t a good idea anymore.”

“Yeah, probably not, but I have to try. Get the ship ready. This isn’t going to be pretty.”

Two shots. Take out the bodyguard and the mark. Leave the bodyguard to be discovered later. It would be fine. Lance exhaled. Lined up his shot with the mark’s hooded head. A crooked smile peeked out from beneath the shadows, the scar stretching wide over the mark’s nose. Lance inhaled. One of the cloaking devices crackled, a shower of sparks dancing over Lance’s vision. He didn’t waver. Remove the bodyguard. Remove the mark. Get the money. Go home.

“Lance, take the shot,” Hunk said suddenly, clear as day. Lance startled. “They have jamming tech. They know you’re there. Take the shot!”

Lance fired.

The recoil slapped hard into his skin, the scope lurching, but the shot aimed true. Each cloaking device crackled and popped, a shower of sparks cascading over Lance’s back as the technology failed. The interloper turned, too fast, dancer’s feet and instincts sharp, and took out a fucking _sword_. Lance’s shot whined harmlessly off the blade as the interloper struck the bullet out of the sky.

_Holy shit._

Lance swung his scope to the left, where the mark was suddenly beelining for the cover of the alleyway. Lance fired. The damn sword intercepted again and Lance cursed viciously. No way. _No fucking way_. Lance scrambled up, disassembling his rifle as quickly as possible. Adrenaline fizzled up his spine, heady and sweet, and Lance stuffed as much into his pack as he could. The interloper was heading right for him, sword at xir side. Lance pushed up and raced over the rooftops.

“Who uses a sword anymore, what the actual hell?” Lance leapt over one of the alleyways, landing heavy on the other side before he took off again. Hunk’s screen was still spitting static, his image heavily distorted and his voice impossible to parse out. Lance kept running.

If this creature could cut a bullet out of the air, it probably had one of those human traits Lance had taken for granted. The rooftops weren’t going to be safe for much longer.

The further he ran from the site, the less static clouded Hunk’s channel. His voice was still indistinguishable though. Lance paused behind one of the jutting rooftops, tucking himself into shadow. He tapped at his visor, took it off and fiddled with it in hopes that it would clear, but no such luck. The jamming tech had a huge range if it could reach him this far from the market square.

Unfortunately, with Lance’s hiding spot comprised mostly of shadow, he couldn’t make out if anyone was following him. He sucked in a heavy breath and held it, gaze darting over the spaces where the shadows were heaviest. He exhaled and darted for the next safe area.

In the distance, the docks were visible, the chrome shell lit up and brilliant. Lance halted at the last rooftop before the docks, sticking low to the ground. Peer over the edge or camp out in relative safety? Hunk was no longer on the channel, probably was about to come barreling through the guard station to get to Lance. That wouldn’t be good. Lance dropped to his belly and crawled forward.

When he peered over the edge, no one was there.

Tension fled from his shoulders and Lance sagged against the tiles, laughing shakily. _Shit_ , that was close. He rubbed a hand against his face, fingers smearing the glass of the visor by accident, and pushed up to his knees. The guard post wasn’t far; a few of the guards were loitering about, talking quietly amongst themselves. If Lance could get through and to the ship, they’d be golden.

Crouched, he made his way around the edge of the rooftop until he spotted a small set of boxes shoved haphazardly against the side of the nearest building. Lance eyed the distance, uncertain, before he crept closer. Glancing over his shoulder revealed that the guards were talking to someone, likely Hunk. Lance didn’t have time.

As he dropped down onto the boxes, a small Galra drone whistled in alarm. Lance flailed, lost his footing, and barely caught himself so he wouldn’t land on his face. The little drone whistled in anger, small blue eye swiveling to take in his features. Lance groaned. It was one of those pyramid-shaped patrol drones that regularly bothered locals by following them around. Lance waved a hand at it as it zipped in close to him, body rotating in curiosity. It recoiled when Lance’s hand made contact, shrill whistle enough to make him wince, and zoomed off into the night.

“Unnecessary,” Lance hissed, dusting off his pants and checking on his rifle. Everything was still in place. He darted to the edge of the alley, peering around the corner. The guards were parting. Hunk jogged out of the check with an alarming amount of weapons attached to his person.

“Nope, nope, shit,” Lance said, hurrying away from his hiding place. “Hunk!”

Hunk ground to a halt, whirling. The palms of his hands were charged with light, the arm cannon humming with its own energy. When Hunk finally caught sight of Lance, all the crazy energy seemed to drain from him. The cannon whirred down. His arms dropped. Tears caught in his eyes. Lance jogged up to him, ducking easy into his space when Hunk gasped, expression breaking.

“I’m okay, I’m okay, oh honey, it’s okay,” Lance said quickly, reaching up as Hunk bowed down. The metal on Hunk’s arms dug harshly into Lance’s sides but he didn’t care, cradling Hunk’s head to his shoulder as Hunk shook against him. Beyond, the empty street yawned wide. Lance tensed, aware that they were out in the open right after he’d taken a shot at a dangerous fugitive. He hated jarring Hunk from his comfort, but they had to move.

“We need to get back to the ship,” Lance said softly, soothingly. Hunk tightened his hold, shaking his head against Lance’s throat. Lance brushed a thumb over Hunk’s temple. “Hunk, we need to go back to the ship, okay? Babe?”

Hunk shuddered, a final gasping breath tickling Lance’s skin, before he pulled back. The arm cannon lit up, a cascade of yellow chasing away the fuzzy greyness of the night. With a twist of his lips, Hunk flexed his fingers into a fist and turned toward the street and the market square beyond. “That can wait.”

He’d shifted from worried to furious. That wasn’t good.

“No, no, listen.” Lance trailed his fingers over the unprotected underside of Hunk’s wrist, gripping the metal of the arm cannon. “We’re not going to get another shot at either of them tonight. We need to get away and regroup. Come on. They’ve probably gone into hiding already.”

The static on Lance’s visor belayed that statement, but they definitely shouldn’t be out in the open like this any longer. Hunk’s tech was solid, the best Lance had ever seen, but that sword maneuver had been impossible. Lance refused to pit Hunk against such a beast.

With one last look down the street, Hunk relented. He followed Lance back through the checkpoint, his arm cannon still lit, the furious clench of his jaw and twist of his brows never abating. The guards said nothing, eying Hunk with something bordering on fear, and Lance didn’t bother correcting them. They had to get inside. They had to analyze what had just happened. It was too impossible to think about right now, with Hunk’s machinery humming against Lance’s skin and the last of the adrenaline leaching from Lance’s spine.

Once safely inside the ship, Lance sagged against the door. Hunk crowded into his space, hands ghosting over him, checking for signs of injury or any other traumas. Lance allowed it, too emotionally rattled to wave Hunk off. That had been insane. If their mark was keeping that kind of company, it would be damn near impossible to get a shot on him. Who brought a sword to a gunfight, seriously?

“We’re leaving,” Hunk said firmly. “Right now. We’re going right now.”

Lance blinked, startled, and grabbed Hunk’s arm before he could march toward the bridge. “No, no, no, we’re definitely not doing that. Hunk, we were so close!”

“And you almost got killed!” Hunk exploded. Lance tightened his hold on Hunk’s arm. “Your screen went completely black, Lance, in the middle of a sentence! I couldn’t reach you! I was minutes away and with those guards stopping me, you could’ve —” Hunk cut himself off, viciously, and blew out an explosive breath. “We’re going home where we don’t have to deal with people like this.”

“Hey, hey, we can’t do that. Hunk, listen to me.” Lance took Hunk’s hand, twisting it face up. He dug both thumbs into the meat of Hunk’s thumb, grounding. “This is my job. This is what I do. I’ve always come away clean. They got a leg up on me simply because there was an extra player but I know who it is now, I’ve seen what this interloper can do. I can account for it.”

Hunk bowed his head forward, gaze focused on the press of Lance’s thumbs into his palm. Lance continued. “It was a shitty situation, sure, but really. I’m fine. They weren’t able to get to me. It’s going to be fine.”

“They’ll change their route,” Hunk whispered.

“Probably.” Lance stepped in, cradling Hunk’s hand to his chest. “They’d be stupid not to.”

“That might be another few weeks of work.”

Lance nodded. An opening. “You should head home, let me finish up on my own. The kids’ll be missing you, yeah? You could —”

He was neatly cut off by Hunk crowding him back against the wall, fingers tilting Lance’s chin up for a muffling kiss. Lance kissed back on instinct, eyes closing as he gave himself over to it. Hunk cupped his cheek, the brush of machinery cool and dangerous. A thrill stole up Lance’s spine. He released Hunk’s hand to grip his collar, dragging him closer.

Hunk pulled back, just enough that Lance could laugh. “That’s rude you know.”

“Stop saying stupid things then,” Hunk whispered back. Lance hummed, tugging. They came together, Lance snickering as Hunk fought to kiss him quiet. Lance danced his fingers over the broad expanse of Hunk’s shoulders, the wide muscle of his chest, the warm expanse of his neck. He played with the stretch of fabric around Hunk’s biceps and the wires snaking their way around Hunk’s warm forearms. When Hunk broke the kiss to grumble, Lance sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and grinned at the groan that garnered him.

“You’re not supposed to use your powers for evil,” Lance said, singsong. The wiring of Hunk’s arm cannon twisted and rucked up areas of his shirt; the thigh holster Hunk had strapped on stretched tight around his leg. Lance hooked his fingers in the strap, tugging. “This, right here? Definitely evil.”

Hunk laughed, fond and pleased and expectant, and palmed the narrow line of Lance’s waist. “You’ve seen through my ruse.”

“Babe.” Lance rocked up on the balls of his feet, bumping their noses together. Hunk steadied him. “Honey. Love of my life. Let me finish up here, okay? Be safe at home?”

Hunk kissed him again, hard, silencing, and Lance fell into it. They needed to talk about it; _Hunk_ needed to talk about it. He wrapped his arms lazily around Hunk’s neck. The kiss softened, eased off, and Lance shuddered out a breath when Hunk pulled back, tapping their foreheads together.

“I’m not leaving you here,” Hunk breathed, fingers flexing against Lance’s hips. Lance flicked his gaze up. The problem here, of course, was the bounty. Lance wouldn’t abandon it, not with them being this close. Hunk would not abandon Lance. It was a circle of endless grief, Hunk’s worry leading to Lance’s recklessness leading to - Lance titled his head up for another kiss, tugging until Hunk was practically pinning him to the bulkhead. Distraction was key. Figure it out later. He twisted his fingers into Hunk’s hair and opened his mouth.

The kiss was all encompassing, Lance whispering out a moan as Hunk plundered his mouth. Machinery dug into his waist, the arch of his hips, the line of his back. While the kiss definitely kept Hunk from demanding they return to Ikrain, the hot stroke of Hunk’s tongue and the near bruising grip he had on Lance’s hips was wiping all reason from Lance’s mind. He clung harder, yanked Hunk closer, until fuzzy desire sparked and roared. The waning adrenaline from the fight and the near miss fanned the flames higher. Lance scrapped his fingernails over the back of Hunk’s neck, shivering at the resulting groan. Yup, definitely one of his better ideas.

With deft fingers, Hunk removed Lance’s cloak, undid the shoulder holsters, and divested him of his bag before Lance could pull back and complain. Not that he would. There was a frenetic energy to Hunk’s movements, a desperation born of fear that Lance understood all too well. Lance broke free from the kiss and Hunk scraped his teeth along Lance’s jaw.

“We should -” Lance started, stuttering out a moan as Hunk slipped warm hands beneath his shirt. The chill of the machinery was a devastating contrast and Lance buried an embarrassing noise in Hunk’s throat. Common sense warred with the wildfire in his blood, but he managed to say, “We definitely shouldn’t do this in the cargo hold. Bed. We need a bed.”

Hunk hummed his agreement but refused to release Lance, fingers exploratory over Lance’s bared hip and the dip of his spine. A quick tug on his thigh holster had Lance swaying forward, gripping at Hunk’s shoulders as Hunk unclipped it. Weaponry all over the floor. Practically naked at this point. Lance grinned, want a desperate swirl in his stomach. He tilted his head back and smacked a quick kiss against Hunk’s red mouth.

“Come on,” Lance whispered, untangling himself from Hunk and pulling him toward the heart of the ship. Hunk shed the cannon on his arm and the guns on his legs, reaching for Lance and hauling him back in before they’d made it even a few steps. Lance arched back into him, a sinuous roll of his spine, and snickered at the resulting groan. Hunk chided him, lips eager against the line of Lance’s throat. Lance closed his eyes. Caught and held onto Hunk’s hands. Bared his throat for a single moment before he took a hesitant step forward. At least Hunk followed him.

Their room definitely wasn’t that far away but every advancement was met with Hunk’s resistance, his hands and his mouth and his strength bullying Lance into stopping. Lance responded in turn, scrapping his teeth against the hammering pulse in Hunk’s throat, digging his fingers into the flex of Hunk’s biceps, rocking their hips together whenever Hunk pinned him against the wall. If this kept up, Lance would leak right through his pants. He hadn’t done that in _years_.

“You’re not making this easy,” Lance panted out, fingers in Hunk’s hair. Hunk smiled against his throat, tongue delicate but teeth sharp. It was an effort to push him back and away, to get them both on track.

Pausing at the mouth of their bedroom, Lance frowned. The heat broke off into confusion, desire fleeing as a different adrenaline snapped up Lance’s spine. Hunk bumped up behind him, hands on Lance’s hips, chin dropping onto Lance’s shoulder. That was - strange. There was a light coming from their bedroom. It was - shaded. Green.

There was _green light_ coming from their darkened room.

Lance glanced up. Twin green eyes glowed from the interior of the bedroom.

“Hiya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter SHOULD be up next week barring any terrible disaster. Come follow me on [tumblr](http://ashinan.tumblr.com/) for more Voltron or [twitter](https://twitter.com/ashinanfandom/) for a constant stream of my writing consciousness as it devolves into only thinking about Voltron. Also, please do leave a comment. They are lovely and definitely make writing this epic worthwhile. 
> 
> Until next time!!


	6. 5.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday update dahlings!! We’re about half way through Arc I, so things are starting to pick up. Special thanks to [Lisa Onions](http://butteredonions.tumblr.com) and [Darling Mumble](http://mumblefox.tumblr.com) for keeping me on track with this story. Now to find out just who is sitting on that bed, hmm?

“Okay, ew, I did not need to see all that,” the voice continued.

Lance slapped his hand against the light, hand dropping to his thigh and groping for his holster. Except Hunk had - Lance cursed viciously. Behind him, Hunk tensed, fingers gripping the back of Lance’s pants. On the bed, _their bed_ , was a small humanoid creature, cross legged. A tattered cloak wrapped around thin shoulders and draped long shadows over armour-clad calves. The features were feminine, incredibly Terran, and Lance narrowed his eyes. The alien flicked xir gaze up, eyes hidden behind round spectacles. A tablet was balanced in one hand, fingers wrapped in ragged bandages. The image on the tablet was of the cargo bay. _Their_ cargo bay.

“What the - _who are you?_  How did you get on our ship?” Lance snapped. The alien shrugged. It took a moment for Lance to realize they’d been speaking English, not Galra. English. Wait -

With a quick flick of xir hand, the hood fell back and -

Nope. No way. It wasn’t possible.

Human. The alien was a _human_.

“You’re - you -” Lance couldn’t finish the sentence, thoughts tangling, shock clogging his throat. A human. _Another_ human. On their bed. Staring at them. “You’re human.”

“Duh.” The girl - and she was a _human girl,_ small and hardened and projecting pure boredom - turned off the tablet, setting it down beside her. “I’m Pidge. The drone behind you is Rover.”

A whistle announced the little patrol drone from before as it flew past Lance’s shoulder and into the room, blue eye swiveling as it took in Lance. When Lance glanced back at Pidge, she was grinning, rubbing her hands together before she sat up tall. “Imagine my surprise when Rover picked up you two all the way out in the middle of nowhere.”

“How are you here?” Hunk asked, voice trembling with unease, with all the shock and impossibilities still taking up space in Lance’s throat.

Pidge shoved her glasses up into her hair, squinting at the both of them. “Not that it’s important, but I hopped around. What _is_ important is you two.”

“Wait. Wait, no,” Lance said, shaking his head. “No, I’m not - you’re human. You. You’re a human. Here. In our ship, on the Lorian docks, on the other half of the _fucking universe_. How?”

With a heavy sigh, Pidge pushed up and off the bed. She was short even standing, barely coming up to Lance’s chin. The cloak brushed the backs of her heels, kicking up as she approached them. Hunk tugged Lance back. Lance desperately wished Hunk hadn’t divested him of his gun. This was either the wildest dream he’d ever had or a dangerous tilt to their reality. Pidge stopped a few feet from them, crossing her arms and squinting.

“Listen, I’m here to make a deal with the two of you. No one else is willing to help me here; they don’t trust me for some reason.”

Lance laughed. It edged into hysterics. “I wonder why? Sneaking into ships and into a stranger's bed to _surprise attack them_ definitely warrants more trust, right?” Hunk spread his fingers wide over the small of Lance’s back, grounding, and Lance swallowed.

“Oh, come on. I didn’t attack you, I was waiting for the right moment to talk to you.” Pidge tapped a finger against her cheek. Rover hovered by her shoulder. “So far, the two of you are my biggest lead.”

“Biggest lead,” Lance repeated. He was stuck, trapped on one train of thought: human. She was _human_. He hadn’t seen a human aside from Hunk since the _Reliant_ , since the entire crew had been wiped out within minutes. Three years with only _almost_ humans to tide them over, with an aching loneliness in their chests that gaped, gnawing and hungry. And here a human was. One that was demanding a deal, one that wasn’t even phased by the presence of two other humans. How - “You’re human.”

Pidge sighed, her bangs fluttering. “Yes, we’ve established this. I’m Pidge. A human. From Earth. Now it’s your turn.”

“Lance,” he said automatically, breathlessly. Hunk exhaled in shock behind him. “Lance Fuentes. Also from Earth.”

Behind him, Hunk said softly, “Hunk.” He didn’t offer anything more. His fingers flexed against Lance’s spine, still holding, still unsure. Lance swallowed.

“Now that we’ve gotten introductions and shock out of the way,” here, Pidge paused, eying Lance as though expecting him to interrupt. Lance was still drowning in his own thoughts, a repetition on constant loop. _Human_. “We can talk deals. You’re hunting that fugitive for the Galra, right? The one that booked it with a weapon?”

“You’re not supposed to know about that,” Lance said, dazed.

Pidge snorted. “Oh, that’s adorable. If I want to know something, I know it. And what I need to know right now is if you’ve identified the fugitive, and if you know anything about his whereabouts.”

That brought Lance up short. He blinked down at this tiny creature, so far from Earth, with a Galra drone hovering by her shoulder and bruises on her knuckles. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“See, lying is useless at this point. You’ve already confirmed that you know about the bounty, about the fugitive, so backtracking? Bad form,” Pidge said. Her gaze flicked over to Hunk before fixing on Lance, expression closing off piece by piece. “I need to know where he is.”

“There’s no way I’m sharing that information with you,” Lance said. His reality had shifted, suddenly and irreversibly, but he was still a professional. Pidge was an outsider. This bounty was his, would guarantee a way home. “Why do you want to know?”

“That’s not how this works.” Pidge crossed her arms, her jaw a stubborn clench.

Lance shrugged, clawing his way back from shock. “See, you’re the one that came barreling in here without anything to trade. Information for information. Why do you want to know about the fugitive?”

“That’s -”

“It’s important to us, so come on, kid, tell us.”

Pidge stiffened, snapping, “I’m not a _child_.” When Lance didn’t budge, she blew out a sharp breath. “I need to talk to him because he knows where my family is.”

“Your family?” Hunk asked. He peered over Lance’s shoulder, cheek brushing against Lance’s. “Why would your family be all the way out here? Did Earth finally have alien contact?”

Scoffing, Pidge waved a hand. “Probably, but the authorities aren’t telling anyone. No, my family are astroexplorers; they went up after the _Reliant_ failed to come back. From what I’ve gathered, they were captured. If they were captured, then the fugitive might know them. Where is he?”

Interesting. Lance flicked his gaze over Pidge, the tightened bunch of her shoulders and the sleepless hollows beneath her eyes. The tattered state of her cloak, molded to her form through months of searching. If her family went up after the _Reliant_ , it couldn’t have been more than half a year before the reports came back that the _Reliant_ was gone. Which meant -

Hunk got there faster. “How long have you been searching?”

“ _That’s not how this works_ ,” Pidge shot back immediately. “I gave you the information you wanted, now give me what I want.”

“Fair.” Lance cut a glance to Hunk, who nodded as well. “We know where the fugitive is.”

Pidge sagged, her fingers tightening on her biceps as her gaze dropped. Rover whistled, hovering just by her shoulder. Pidge smiled. “I knew it.”

Lance waited, a courtesy to Pidge as she gathered herself, but also to allow himself a moment. The tablet she’d left on the bed still showed the cargo bay, but other images flickered over the surface. Surveillance, then. With Pidge’s stature, she likely wasn’t running headlong into firefights; sabotage and hacking was definitely more her style. Coupling that with her being on Lorian, where the fugitive was last sighted and knowing there was a bounty in play, meant she’d scoured through Sendak’s systems hoping for information.

“You already knew the fugitive was here,” Lance guessed. Pidge’s head snapped up, surprise stealing over her features. Lance raised an eyebrow.

Pidge cleared her throat, gaze dashing to the side. “Well, it was information I wanted to know.”

“Why did you really seek us out?” Lance demanded, taking a step forward. Hunk’s fingers bruised Lance’s side, holding on just in case. “Why are you really here?”

Pidge held her ground, chin tilting up in defiance. “I’m here because the two of you hold the bounty. You know exactly where the fugitive is. You know his movements and what he’s doing, and before you take him back into custody. I need to talk to him.”

Lance laughed. Humans tended to lie when they were nervous and Pidge had a tell: the tick of her jaw, the flick of her gaze to Hunk and to Rover, the twist of her fingers against her tattered shirt.

Lance crossed his arms. “Listen, kid, if you want our help, honesty is the best policy. You tracked the guy here to Dvix, to Lorian, and expect me to believe you decided to come to _us_ instead of finding this fugitive? I wouldn’t detour if this guy knew about my family. I’d be on him immediately. Spill.”

A pause. Pidge gathered herself, likely for another lie, and Lance waved his hand. “Before you come up with some cock-and-bull story, remember that you’re basically cornered and if I don’t like your answer, then you aren’t leaving the way you came in.”

Pidge huffed, though her gaze flicked to Lance’s stance and Hunk behind. Calculating. Lance waited. She opened her mouth, closed it, and then her shoulders sagged. “I was - scared.”

That startled Lance. “Scared?”

“You’re the hunters on the fugitive’s tail. You have to know what his record looks like!” Pidge grabbed the glasses in her hair, thumbs rubbing ceaselessly over the frames. “He’s undefeated, terrifying, and escaped with a weapon of mass destruction. I’m good at what I do but I’m good with tech, not with brawn. He’d take me out in a heartbeat. There’s no way I could even get close enough to ask a single question.”

Hunk stepped up beside Lance, fingers trailing over Lance’s side. “So you found the bounty hunters instead.”

“Listen, I know it’s not the best plan, okay? How could I be sure you’d even consider it? But when Rover showed me your faces, when I saw _humans_ \- I had to try.” Pidge pressed her thumbs against the center of the lenses before she purses her lips. “I have to find my family. You’re my best bet in talking to the fugitive and getting some answers.”

The slump of her shoulders and the defeated weariness in her tone twisted something in Lance’s chest. Pidge was clinging ceaselessly to a hope that dwindled by the day; depending on how long she’d been out searching for her family, this was probably her strongest lead on finding them. Lance swallowed. “Stay here.”

Lance dragged Hunk out of the room, closing the door and leaning against it. Hunk raised a brow at him. “She can probably still hear us.”

“Yeah, probably. But I like to pretend. Do you buy it?”

Sighing, Hunk crossed his arms. “It took a lot of guts to break into the ship of a bounty hunter. If she was tailing you, she definitely saw the weaponry we were packing. It was either a very calculated risk or unpreparedness on her part. From her personality alone? It’s the former.”

Lance nodded. “And the story?”

“About her family?” Furrowing his brow, Hunk shrugged. “I mean, if my family were jettisoned into space and then never heard from again, I’d probably go a bit crazy trying to find them too. Jumping around space is a bit out of my league, but you have to respect her doggedness.”

“Well, she’s definitely human on that front.” Lance rubbed at his temples. “The big question then: do we help her?”

Hunk flicked his gaze upwards. One of the cameras was blatantly turned towards them. Hunk said, “It’s up to you. You know my stance on staying here any longer.”

Lance sighed. “We’re not going back to Ikrain. Well, I’m not. You’re more than welcome to.” Hunk slotted a glare Lance’s way and Lance shoved his shoulders back into the door. “Fine. But if we help her out, we have to make her aware of the possibility that this fugitive might know nothing about her family. Zarkon has a stupid amount of gladiator rings scattered around the known universe and even more prisons. The fact that she believes her family was held in the same facility, let alone the same _galaxy_ as the mark, is laughable.”

“Yeah,” Hunk conceded.

“Which means she might go gallivanting off elsewhere searching for answers,” Lance continued. That part irked him, coiled nauseously in his stomach. It was bad enough the two of them were abandoned at the edge of the universe; what had it been like bouncing from ship to ship, planet to planet, searching for remnants and rumour? They still had no idea how long Pidge had been by herself.

“We should help her,” Hunk said softly. He reached for Lance’s hand, tangling their fingers together. “Maybe we can convince her to come back to Earth.”

“Depends on what the fugitive tells her.” Lance twisted his hand until their palms slid together. He nodded and turned, opening the door.

Pidge was still in the exact place they’d left her, though her tablet was tucked into her belt and Rover was hovering around her face, the flickers of a hologram disappearing. She glanced up. “You’ll help me.”

“Eavesdropping is rude,” Lance said instead. Pidge smiled, brow raised. “Yeah, we’ll help you. It’s going to be dangerous, though, and we can’t guarantee that the fugitive has heard of or seen your family. You okay with that?”

“It’s the biggest lead I’ve had in a year. I’ll take it.”

Lance held out his hand. “Welcome aboard, Pidge.”

“Thanks for taking the chance,” Pidge said, and shook his hand.

 

With all the excitement of the day, it was no surprise Hunk demanded they eat something. Pidge scarfed down more than her fair share of dinner, slowing only when Hunk told her to. Rover floated around the kitchen, whistling and beeping curiously, and only left when Lance shooed it out. They didn’t manage to get more information out of Pidge during dinner. Before they could try again, she staggered her way to the cot and curled up in the blankets, glasses askew as she sagged. Sleep claimed her fast.

Lance didn’t sleep well that night: too many new noises, Pidge tossing and turning in the other room, keeping him awake. Even with Hunk’s head tucked under Lance’s chin, warm and cocooned and safe, it wasn’t enough to send him off. A new variable meant new risks. Lance was used to accounting for Hunk being on a few missions. Pidge was going to either cause huge issues or be an asset with uncertain consequences. It was infuriating.

Morning came, and with it a new slew of problems. With all the excitement surrounding Pidge, Lance had nearly forgotten about the colossal screw up that was his failure to capture the mark and the interloper. The fugitive knew that hunters were in the region. The fugitive had an interloper with a goddamn sword. Lance had forgotten to grab all the cloaking devices off the rooftop. _Shit_.

“Okay, I’m heading back to the nest,” Lance said, taking down his Mida. “Gotta grab those cloaking devices or Nyma will have my head.”

“We’ll come with,” Hunk said, gesturing to Pidge. She squinted blearily at the two of them, Rover nestled on top of her head and glasses dipped low on her nose. “Well, once Pidge wakes up.”

“I’m awake. What are we doing?”

Lance opened the cargo bay door and slipped out, Hunk and Pidge on his tail. “I’m heading back to where I first saw the fugitive. Not sure what Hunk’ll have you do.”

“Camera work,” Hunk said. Pidge yawned wide but listened attentively as Hunk detailed their camera positions and what they were trying to accomplish. She woke more as they wove their way through the docks and to the main entrance.

The guards gave them no issue, didn’t even bother asking for a bribe. They eyed Hunk with trepidation, fingers on their guns and brows low over their eyes. Lance paid them no mind. If they wanted to be scared of Hunk, fine.

Leaving Pidge and Hunk at the entrance to the market square, Lance circled around until he was back by a familiar food cart. Most of the boxes had been cleared away, except two. Lance stacked them haphazardly and climbed his way up to the roof, taking care on the crumbling ledges that were steadily sagging under his continuous use. When he pulled himself up, the suns blazed the tiles white. He squinted and stuck low, hurrying over to his last known location.

Which was filled with smashed machinery.

Oh _no_.

Lance dropped to his knees, fingers brushing over the bits of the cloaking devices, scattered and shattered and pulverized into unrecognizable tangles. Someone had come up here and destroyed practically everything in the nest. Lance picked up the largest piece of metal, the shell splintered and seconds from falling apart. Was it that sword wielding freak? The fugitive? Wait. If they had been able to get up here, that meant - Lance whirled, scooping up as many pieces as he could. He tapped on his visor, scrolling over to Hunk’s feed.

“Hunk, we have an issue.”

Hunk cut off whatever he was saying. “What do you mean? Are you okay? I knew I shouldn’t have let you go alone.”

“I’m fine, it’s not me, I’m fine.” Lance untied his cloak, dropping the pieces onto the fabric and collecting more. “The cloaking devices were smashed.”

“Smashed?”

“Yeah, smashed. As in someone clambered on up to the rooftops and _smashed everything_.”

Silence and then a startled intake of breath. “No.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Lance stood, throwing the bundle over his shoulder and picking his way across the rooftop again. “Either our interloper is very creative with that sword or they’re from a sector where climbing and jumping isn’t as rare as it is here.”

“That’s going to make things more difficult,” Hunk said, worryingly. “Plan?”

“I’ll rendezvous with the two of you shortly. We’re going to have to change things up.” Lance scurried down the wall, nearly braining himself on the boxes when his foot slipped over the crumbling ledge. He caught himself just in time, pushed to his feet, and ran down one of the short roads to the main rendezvous point.

Hunk snagged him before he could run by, dragging him into the shaded alcove of an herbalist shop. Pidge was picking up and putting down a series of plants, her nose bunched and fingers delicate. Each plant wiggled, still alive, giving the shop a wobbling tilt with how they swayed.

“You weren’t followed?” Hunk asked, hands running brisk over Lance’s sides and arms.

“Nah. They wouldn’t try to take me out in broad daylight. I grabbed what I could but, well.” Lance opened the cloak enough for Hunk to glance inside and his grimace wasn’t promising. “If you can fix the devices, awesome. If not, we’ll have to figure something else out.”

“What are you figuring out?” Pidge asked, holding a tiny alien plant in her cupped palms. It was shaped like a cactus, protruding arms swaying and dancing as it wiggled in its pot. With the right application of googly eyes, it would be adorable.

Lance closed up the cloak. “We ran into some complications last night trying to get the fugitive. It’s fine. How are the cameras?”

Carefully, Pidge placed the cactus back on the shelf. It waggled its little arms at her. She pulled out her tablet and a plethora of screens lit up. “I’ve interlocked all the cameras into one data mainframe. I can cross reference the information you guys have gathered in the last week and see if there are any patterns. Once established, we should be able to map out his routes and corner him. There was a complication?”

The open ended question hung uneasily in the air. Pidge waited, fingers poised over the tablet screen. Lance sighed. “We were spotted.”

Pidge’s brows jumped up. “That’s not good.”

“You don’t say. Any solutions?”

Hunk said, “We’ll have to install more cameras around the city. The market square was a good start, but they have to know it’s a liability now. We likely won’t see them in that area again, at least not until they figure it’s safe.”

“They?” Pidge asked quietly.

Lance winced but chose to ignore the question. “So, branch out. Areas?”

Hunk reached out toward Pidge, fingers curled in a question. Pidge handed him the tablet. Opening up a new screen, Hunk brought up a map of the city. “If they were heading for the docks each day looking for passage, then we have to assume our cutting off access to that will drive them out of the city. They’ll try to find another way off planet now.” Hunk zoomed out on the screen. Canyon walls jutted up beyond the city, thick bedrock that reached up to the sky and dipped low into shadows untamed. “The next option is to head to another part of the planet to find passage. Ikrain, for example.”

“Babe,” Lance warned and Hunk shot him an apologetic smile.

“So, we need to discuss alternate routes. They weren’t heading toward the inner city; those cameras never picked up any information on either of them. They aren’t hiding out there. We can maintain the cameras in the area just in case, but our best bet is probably a route outside the city.” With that, Hunk narrowed in on the gateways leading out into the deserted areas, the cavernous tunnels and unmapped depths. Three in total on the outer rim, two leading from the inner city. Lot of ground to cover.

Pidge spoke up. “We don’t have enough cameras to cover all the exits. Do we have an alternative?”

“Let’s assume they aren’t cutting through the inner city.” Lance swiped those two exits off. “That leaves us with three. If they’ve established a base somewhere in the vicinity, they probably won’t move too far from it just in case. That cuts off this route out here. Should be enough cameras to cover two exits.”

Hunk nodded. “I’ll get most of the cameras pulled from the area and meet you back at the ship?”

Lance shook his head. “I think I’ll go for a wander myself. I’ll drop off my cargo and head on out; keep in touch through the comms. Pidge, me or Hunk?”

Pidge eyed Lance. “Are you going to go running along rooftops again?”

“That is a definite possibility,” Lance said, grinning.

Pidge snorted. “I’ll stick with Hunk. I know more about electronics than I do about rooftop navigation.”

“Sounds good. Here.” Lance dug in his pocket, tossing Pidge one of the extra ear pieces he carried with him. Usually, Hunk liked him to have two on hand just in case the visor was broken. If they were going to have Pidge traipsing around with them, best to keep in contact just in case. “Channels twenty five and thirty six are ours. If you get lost, we’ll be listening on those. You keep him safe for me, okay?”

Pidge cradled the ear piece, frowning at it, before she glanced over at Hunk. He smiled for her. Something sad stole over Pidge’s features, there and gone, before she nodded at Lance. “He’s safe with me.”

“Now you’re getting it.” Lance winked. Pidge rolled her eyes. Tipping up on his toes, Lance pecked Hunk on the mouth. “Keep an ear out.”

“Come back safe.”

Lance took off for the docks, careful to seem as nonchalant as when he left. The drop off was easy and, once his cloak was secured around his shoulders, he picked his way to one of the first pathways out of the city. It would be better to have a higher vantage point, but a niggling sense of uncertainty kept him on the ground. If their fugitive or the interloper could get up high, then there was no guarantee that Lance would be safer up top.

Each of the exits out of the city housed their own pair of guards, bored and lazy, herding people in and out. Lance parked himself beside the guardhouse, hands in his pockets. One of the guards glanced up. “Business?”

“Nah,” Lance called back. Looked like a slow day, barely anyone trickling out. Lots of folks coming in, though.

The guard’s yellow gaze flicked over Lance’s stance, the rifle nozzle poking up over his shoulder. Xe bared xir teeth. “Move along then.”

Lance pushed off the wall, walking over to the guard. Xe focused on the rifle nozzle and not the clear flash of a pistol in Lance’s thigh holster. Stupid. Lance stopped in front of xir. “Listen, friend, I’m looking for someone.”

“Then look elsewhere.”

“Rude.” Lance dug into his pocket, pulling out a shiny gold coin. The guard’s gaze dropped down and held. “See, I’m pretty sure you’d remember them. They probably wandered on by either last night or this morning. Cloaked, the pair of them. One of them has a sword. The other has a mean scar over his nose.”

“A sword,” the guard repeated, still focused on the glint of gold.

“And a scar. If you saw them, awesome, this coin is yours. If you haven’t, then this coin is a promise that you’ll tell me should they pop up, _comprende_?” Lance rolled the coin between his fingers.

The guard glanced behind xir before saying, “We see lots of folks here. No one like you’re describing, though.”

“Too bad,” Lance said, snatching the coin up. The guard frowned. “Would you be willing to give me directions if you do see them? They’ve lost something very important and I’d like to return it.”

“Sure, sure.” The guard held out xir paw, waiting, and Lance dug in his pocket for a comm receiver, dropping it into the guard’s waiting grasp. Xir frowned. Lance waggled his eyebrows, producing a single silver coin instead of the gold he’d dangled.

“Half now, half later. Don’t want you cheaping out on me now.”

The guard sneered, snatching the coin from him. Xe didn’t chuck the comm receiver though. “Move along now.”

“Have a nice day,” Lance said, tipping an imaginary hat. One down, one to go.

The other gate was also a dead end, though that wasn’t surprising. If the mark and his interloper hadn’t wandered by the night before or even that morning, then they would likely wait until the cover of night to make their escape. Lance paused near the latest gate, eying the rooftops. He’d done his due diligence by bribing the guards, so maybe rooftop reconnaissance wouldn’t be a bad plan at this point.

Ducking into one of the far alleys, Lance shoved together boxes and until a proper jumping-off point could be made. He leapt and caught the first windowsill ledge, hauling himself up, using the bars on the window to remain steady. It was a quick hop and skip to the rooftop, much easier than the market square, and Lance steadied himself on a protruding column of rock. He could just see over Lorian’s wall, to the devastating world held at bay by marble and canyon rock.

The canyon yawned, stretches of red and muddy brown rock delving into shadowy twists and turns. Each corner hid another pathway; each dip masked a possible labyrinth. The canyon wasn’t forgiving to those that ventured into it, even if one had supplies and a map. Sure, there were towns beyond it, but it was much easier to fly to another destination than risk being eaten by whatever made the gorge its home. The mark and his bodyguard would be fools to risk such a venture.

Faced with becoming Sendak’s prisoner again? Yeah, no, Lance would take the canyon too.

Lance kept low as he ventured about the rooftops, searching for areas to hop down safely and clamber up easily. The interlocking tiles led him all the way back to the market square. Lance perched himself on one of the ledges, overlooking the stalls and the employees, the people and their shopping. Nothing of interest showed up on the visor. Lance sighed and dropped his elbows to his knees.

The suns inched closer to each other, switching places. The earpiece crackled. Hunk said, “We’re all set up here, hun.”

“Should I head back to the ship?”

“Have you found a perch yet?”

Lance shook his head, even though Hunk couldn’t see him. The people milled about below, none the wiser. “Not yet. I’ll know where to hang out once we get visual. Anything on the screens?”

“We’ll know later,” Pidge said suddenly, her voice much louder than Hunk’s. Lance winced. “If they spotted you last night, they probably won’t go out just yet, right?”

“You’re well versed,” Lance said.

Pidge laughed, a self-deprecating chuckle. “Planet-hopping. It’s hard to do when you have no coin.”

Lance hummed agreement on that, ignoring the pang of upset over Pidge’s words. If anything, she’d been searching for about a year, maybe more. Long time to be alone, too long to be skirting danger and hoping for the best. Lance pushed to his feet. “I’ll meet you both back at the ship.”

As Lance hopped down, a message icon popped up: purple, BAT BOI, irritating. Lance sighed. Right. He’d forgotten about their leash. Resigned, Lance opened the envelope. Immediately muted the message when Sendak opened with an annoyed haughtier-than-thou spiel. Same shit, different day. Lance wove his way through the crowds, popping into one of the shops and grudgingly parting with coin to gather supplies for dinner.

Another message awaited him when he got back to the docks.

Lance deleted it.

Sendak could wait for as long as Lance deemed necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m super excited for the upcoming chapters. It’s going to be a glorious and bumpy ride. Come follow me on [tumblr](http://ashinan.tumblr.com/) for more Voltron or [twitter](https://twitter.com/ashinanfandom/) for a constant stream of my writing consciousness as it devolves into only thinking about Voltron. Also, please do leave a comment. They are lovely and definitely make writing this epic worthwhile!!!


	7. 6.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday dahlings! I'm terribly sorry this update is so late! A lot of things just kind of piled up and I have finally broken free enough to breathe and throw this update at you all. I hope you enjoy it! Just wanna say **thank you** to everyone that has commented and kudos'd and bookmarked. HUGE thanks to [Lisa Onions](http://butteredonions.tumblr.com/) for cheerleading me on and helping me through the sticky parts, editing things like crazy and helping me fix a subplot that, until very recently, was a huge part of the fic. You're all amazing and you make it worthwhile writing this story. We're one more chapter before the first arc is complete ahhhh. Enjoy!!!

The next few days were a test in patience, both for Lance and for Sendak. The messages became increasingly hostile, Sendak sending one every few hours to pester Lance for updates, his snarling face the first thing Lance saw when he woke up and the last thing he saw before bed. The reports were sparse because they didn’t _have_ anything. Even with Pidge and Hunk combing possible trails, the mark’s pattern was irregular at best. The interloper never showed up on camera for some reason and Lance seethed at the possibility that he was being outwitted by some asshole with a sword.

Pidge wasn’t faring much better, her comments becoming more snide and the sleepless hollows beneath her eyes deepening as the days dragged on. She shook awake at night and prowled the ship; Hunk often went to her after the first few times, calming her with a cup of warm cider or a ration bar. Pidge never talked about what she’d witnessed over her year of searching; she barely talked about anything but finding and demanding answers from the mark, from the _Champion_. The drive in her was frightening, though Lance admired her tenacity.

The first lead they got came from one of the guards Lance had plied. The mark and his bodyguard had disappeared through the market square gate in the early morning but had not come back. He immediately set off to find a nest and start scouting. Pidge and Hunk waited in the wings, quiet, but the mark didn’t show up that night. Nor did he show the second night. Lance was growing agitated. Sendak was growing furious. It was driving toward a boiling point and Lance had no idea what would occur in the fallout.

On the sixth day, Pidge blearily stumbled into the kitchen, setting her tablet down. “I think I’ve figured it out.”

“Figured what out?” Hunk asked, sliding her a plate of food. Mostly ration bars, re-purposed and re-flavoured with Hunk’s own brand of spices.

Pidge picked up her spork and scrunched her nose at the dish. “Why we’re not finding them on the cams. I think their base is already outside the city, the canyon beyond.”

Lance frowned, food halfway to his mouth. “That would be suicide.”

Pidge shook her head, leaning forward. “No, listen, if they’re resourceful they could survive out there for what, two - three days at a time?”

“If they were _really_ resourceful,” Lance conceded. “Between the storms, the dangerous fauna, and the pitfalls littering the entire ravine, it’d be game over at any moment. Escaping the prison just to die in a canyon on some forgotten planet? Not the best of plans. Besides, they’d be flagged if they kept popping into the city every few days; the canyon is a death trap and the city guards wouldn’t allow the citizens to just live out there. Dead things bring dangerous creatures closer to the city wall.”

“That doesn’t necessarily rule it out, it just means they’re crafty.” Pidge spun her tablet around. A map of the city stared up at them. “Think about it: you’ve only caught them a handful of times, right? Why is that? The city itself is set up in a grid system. The cameras should be able to catch them easily, but they’re not. The only times we’ve seen them have been when they’re heading back toward the gate.”

Placing his spork down, Lance said, “So, they’re getting in and out in different ways, bypassing the guards, _and_ living in one of the most hostile places on planet? Pidge, that’s a reach even for you.”

“The Champion escaped for a reason. He’s also _the Champion_. We’d be stupid to cross it off our list.”

Hunk dropped his elbows on the counter. “So, they’re staying out of sight and out of mind until they can get off planet. Instead of staying within the city walls, which are subject to Galra patrol, they’re braving the elements. That about right?”

Pidge nodded. “Exactly. We know what gate they have to come in and out of to access the canyon, we know that they’re sparse with their comings and goings; if we can figure out their schedule and follow them back to their base, then we’re set up.”

“It’s been, what, two days since we last saw them? Should be close to a supply run.” Lance stood, brushing crumbs off his lap. “If this pans out, you get title of resident genius.”

“Hey!” Hunk said, smiling.

“It was only a matter of time,” Pidge said, pleased. Her face screwed up when she ate some of the ration breakfast.

“Okay, we know what gate they’re coming in. If I perch atop the wall, I should be able to pinpoint their location and follow them back. Hunk?”

Hunk untied his apron, following Lance out. He was surprisingly quiet, handing Lance his cloak and picking up his Mida, fiddling with the wires. Lance paused in tightening the straps of his holster, shuffling his way over to Hunk’s side. “You okay, babe?”

“Sendak left a message for me,” Hunk said softly.

Nearly dropping his revolver, Lance choked out, “What? How? Why? What did he want?”

Hunk sighed, straightening Lance’s cloak and gesturing for him to turn. “He wanted updates. He wanted to know what was going on. You’re not sending him reports.”

“I _am_ sending reports. He just doesn’t like the lack of information in them.” Lance twisted so Hunk could secure the Mida’s strap before catching Hunk’s hand, pressing a quick kiss to his palm. “He’s agitated right now. Are you okay?”

“He didn’t say anything I didn’t already know,” Hunk said, shrugging. “We’re irritating him with our lack of communication, with the fact that we haven’t caught the fugitive yet. But I found out something interesting: the mark did escape with another.”

That gave Lance pause. “Our interloper?”

“Probably. I don’t think Sendak meant to say anything about it, but he -” Hunk paused, a sad smile flipping up the corners of his mouth. “Anyway, we have the fugitive and the one he escaped with. Whether or not it’s another prisoner, we can’t be sure. Sendak isn’t interested in the other, just the mark. Lance, be careful.”

Lance frowned, tucking Hunk’s concern away. “I know we can corner him here. We’re so close. Once we know where their base is, it’s just a matter of waiting until they pop their heads out. The mark goes down, we have the bounty, and we go _home_. Okay?”

Hunk sighed. He leaned forward to press their foreheads together. A quick brush of lips followed before Hunk withdrew. “I’ll be right here watching. Pidge’ll keep the cameras up to date so I can focus on helping you. Don’t do anything reckless.”

“Have I ever?” Lance asked, grinning when Hunk rolled his eyes.

 

Lance set up in a new location this time, bribing the same guard to get atop the gates’ wall. The guards largely ignored him, though a few inquired as to why he was skulking about. Thankfully, they went away with a little bit of coin and an annoyed huff. Lance perched and waited.

Mid morning saw movement on the other side of the gate, two figures appearing in the distance, heralded by a shimmer of heat. Cloaked. Heads low. Familiar.

Lance ducked down and brought up his visor. “Hunk, I have visual.”

“They’re here?” Hunk asked, popping up as a video on Lance’s visor. Pidge wormed her way into view, draping Hunk’s arm over her shoulder. “Pidge was right.”

“Pidge is always right,” Pidge said. Her tablet lit up on screen. “I’m tapping into the cameras surrounding the market square gate. We’ll keep an eye on them here and tell you when they’re heading back out.”

“Sounds good.”

On the screen, Pidge typed furiously, turning the tablet whenever Lance asked for progress. The mark and his bodyguard were going through the motions, collecting food and other supplies, backpacks slowly filling. Pidge spoke up suddenly, “They’re taking a different route back to the gate.”

“Different how?” Lance asked, popping his head over the side. Nothing below except more people coming and going, the guards yawning and badmouthing each other. Beyond the ever moving crowds, the market square was a sea of alien colour.

“Not sure yet. Standby.” Pidge typed quickly, conversing with Hunk and shaking her head at his responses. Lance waited, poised. Something was off. The colours in the square were more _purple_ than Lance was used to seeing. Silver and purple. Sentries. _Galra_.

“They’re going to take a back exit to the canyon,” Lance said suddenly, popping to his feet. “There are too many Galra sentries wandering around; they’ll be spotted and questioned if they exit out this way again.”

“I’ve lost visual,” Pidge hissed out, despairing. Lance cursed. Fugitive, cornered in the city, surrounded by Galra sentries. What route would he take?

“Rooftop or sewer,” Lance said. Hunk raised a brow but Lance was already running. “They’d go either the rooftops or the sewer. You can see the canyon from atop any of the buildings here, which means you can easily hop over the wall with the right equipment.”

“Why wouldn’t they take the sewer?” Pidge asked.

“The sewer leads out into the depths near the docks,” Hunk answered, already catching up. “All waste is collected and expelled there. It’s a death wish.”

“Exactly.” Lance bounded through one of the towers. Three guards were situated around a crude table, talking quietly and holding the equivalent of cards in their hands. Lance blew by them, taking the stairs up, up, up. One guard called after him, but the others silenced her, demanding she take her turn.

By the time he reached the top, Pidge and Hunk were trading spaces, leaning and arching around each other to get to different appliances. They hadn’t thought to place cameras up high; no species in this quadrant could jump or climb. But their mark and his bodyguard weren’t from this sector. Lance burst out into the top of the crows nest, catching himself on the edge. The entire city sprawled out below him. Rooftop, rooftop, come _on_. He couldn’t be wrong.

Movement, and Lance could just make out the mark and his bodyguard staying low over the rooftops, hurrying toward the city walls. He had been right. They were of a species that could climb, could jump and clamber and - shit. Lance unhooked his Mida, quickly scoping down and to where they were running. The bodyguard was just behind the mark, covering their tails. The Mida wasn’t equipped to take someone out at this distance and Lance didn’t want to risk outing that he knew how they moved. Instead, he kept an eye on them as they made their way to the city wall and hopped easily up and onto the edge. They hooked a series of notches into the wall and disappeared down the other side.

Lance grinned behind his scope.

“Gotcha.”

 

Lance whistled the entire way back to the ship. After successfully managing to follow the duo into the canyon, Lance had left behind a beacon to mark the exact location where the fugitive was holed up. Pidge and Hunk had worked tirelessly to map out the edge of the canyon their bounty was living in. Pidge wasn’t too pleased with the whistling. Hunk ignored it, just like always.

Hunk met him just outside the ship, eyebrow raised. Pidge glared at him from the cargo hold. “Do you realize how irritating it is to work with sensitive information while someone is _whistling_?”

“Oh, come on, Pidgeon. This is huge! We figured out their hiding place. How could I not whistle a happy tun?” Lance grinned, removing his cloak and unstrapping his Mida. “This celebration deserves an awesome meal.”

“Ration bars,” Hunk pointed out.

Lance whirled, offended. “We’re at the final countdown and you’re making ration bars? I’m offended!”

“Not quite the final countdown yet,” Pidge said.

Lance led them both to the kitchen, Pidge poking at his side in irritation when Lance began to whistle again. Hunk chuckled, combing his fingers through Lance’s hair as he sat down. Opening the fridge, Hunk slid over a tray of food and dropped his elbows on the counter opposite Lance. “All right, love, us finding where they’re holed up is good and all but what has you so excited?”

Lance stood, palms against the counter. “We have them literally cornered! All it takes is me wandering on out there and _bam_ , one ticket back to Earth please. We’re so close to home that I can taste it.”

Pidge leaned against the counter. “I think that’s the canyon dust.”

“Oh Pidge, your snark won’t get me down today.” Lance grinned at Pidge’s exaggerated eye roll. “Their base is well hidden, so they won’t be expecting someone just perching above them. False sense of security and all that jazz.”

“What about the interloper?” Pidge asked.

Lance shrugged. “We don’t need them. Once we take the mark, they’re basically free to do whatever they want.”

Pidge was quiet, pensive, reaching out to pluck one of the ration bars free. “When do we strike?”

Leaving them to it, Hunk turned away and gathered ingredients, starting on a proper dinner. Lance said, “It depends really. Right now, they’ll be on the defensive after running from the Galra sentries; we’ll have to wait a few days for them to relax. Pidge, do you know what shops they hit? Can we tell which supplies they’ll be lacking and when they’ll come back into the city based on that?”

Nodding, Pidge brought up her tablet and the myriad of screens. “They stopped for food mostly, though the other guy bought some weapons. Your little near-miss has definitely spooked them. Are you sure this is going to work?”

“Bringing a knife to a gunfight,” Lance said pointedly. Hunk snickered. “They can buy all the weapons they want; I’m going to be shooting from far enough away they won’t know what hit them.”

“But we still have the issue of them knowing someone in the area is hunting them. You were on the rooftops, right?” Pidge opened a new channel of the market square. “If they can climb and jump like us, then they’ve probably figured out that you have that same advantage. This is either a really elaborate trap or they’re hoping you’ve been scared off by them finding your nest.”

“Here’s hoping it’s the latter,” Lance said. “Supplies?”

Pidge scrolled over to a still frame of the mark and the interloper ducking away from Galra scrutiny. “They didn’t buy as much food as they could carry; one of the packs is empty. I’d say they’ll try again tomorrow at the earliest, tomorrow night the latest. If they’re out in the canyon, they’ll need all the rations they can get.”

“Okay, so we’ll set up tomorrow morning. Hunk, Pidge, keep an eye on the gates. I’ll circle around back to their base and set up shop there. If we can pigeon-hole them, we can take out the interloper and drag the mark into our custody. Pidge gets her talk, we get our bounty, and bat boy can fuck off with his constant messages.” Lance leaned back, hands behind his head. Loved when a plan came together like this.

Hunk turned, dropping two full plates in front of Pidge and Lance. “You can’t keep ignoring him, hon.”

Grumbling, Lance fiddled with his spork. “I know. I’ll send an update later tonight.”

Hunk cocked a brow but nodded, joining them for dinner. They chatted quietly about the mission, what was to happen next, and what Pidge was going to start with when she had the mark alone. The food was passable, Hunk’s spices the only thing salvaging the grainy texture of the dish. An unease settled low in Lance’s chest, a tickle of uncertainty at the back of his neck. Didn’t matter. They were almost home.

He could practically taste it.

 

Lance hauled Pidge up and onto the roof, steadying her when she stumbled. Hunk pulled himself up after her, lugging the computer supplies Pidge had demanded they bring with. Lance grinned as Pidge glanced over her shoulder, eyes wide behind her glasses. Ikrain was glorious in the morning light, the dual suns enveloping the city in gentle golds and fractured pinks. The marble caught and refracted the light onto the streets below, a shattered medley of pastels. Pidge wasn’t taking in the view; she was actively inching her way closer to Lance, fingers squeezing his hand so tight he winced.

Humour was always a good distraction. “Aw, is Pidgeon afraid of heights?”

“No!” Pidge said immediately. Her denial was shortlived; she clung to Lance when he turned away, fingers twisting tight in his cloak and the rough stitch of his shirt. When Lance shot her an amused eyebrow, she scoffed. “Shut up. Where are we setting up?”

Hunk chuckled behind them, reaching out to steady Pidge when she wobbled. “We’re going to the nearest gate, remember? Our comms won’t reach Lance if he heads for the canyon otherwise.”

“Right. Right, of course.” Pidge shuddered out a breath, squeezing her eyes shut when she swayed again. Both Lance and Hunk steadied her and she blew out a breath. “Why would they build an entire city with _rooftops_ if no one can climb?”

“To make it easy for awesome people like me,” Lance said, beaming when Pidge shot him a scathing look. “Come on, we won’t let you fall. Besides, it’s not that far. Unless you want to stay here?”

“I hate you,” Pidge muttered, but she followed after Lance tentatively. Hunk kept her steady, free hand hovering near her shoulder, and both men shared an amused glance when Pidge continued to spit profanities about heights.

The rooftops levelled out near the first gate. Pidge collapsed as far from the edge as she could get, stealing Hunk’s bag from him. As she sorted through the equipment and began to set it up, Hunk handed Lance back his visor. “This should allow for a range of quality through any of the canyon’s own electromagnetic fields.”

“Neat.” Lance slipped on the earpiece, clicking the visor over. A video channel had already been opened in the top right, Pidge muttering angrily at herself through the screen. Lance grinned. “Let’s get this done, yeah?”

Hunk rubbed a gentle thumb over Lance’s cheek, eyes crinkling when Lance nudged into the touch. “Be careful.”

“You got my back?”

“Always.”

Lance darted forward for a quick good-bye kiss before saluting at Pidge and taking off. In the video feed, Pidge was joined by Hunk, the two of them moving around each other as they set up. Lance dropped down in one of the side alleys and made his way through the gate, winking at one of the guards as he walked by. The guard ignored him.

The vast carvings of the canyon rose in front of him as he walked. Golden dust flecked over his boots, caught in swirls against his cloak, burned his lips as the wind kicked up. Lance unravelled parts of his cloak, tucking it up and over his mouth as he pushed further in. Yesterday, when he’d tailed the mark and his interloper to their secret base of secrets, the canyon had been still and silent, a burnished canvas of red and black. Now, it howled around him, smudging the features of the land. Lance clicked through his visor, squinting until a beacon flared in the distance. He grinned. Still there. Good.

Once within the protected confines of the canyon, the wind dropped off. Stillness returned to the gorge, and Lance dug through his pack, producing the little cameras Hunk had given him. Jamming them into the rock was a task but Hunk gave him a thumbs up after he was done. This would allow for Pidge and Hunk to plan a backdoor in case things went sour. While unlikely, Hunk was still agitated over Lance throwing himself into danger. Better to give him some peace of mind than risk more worry. On screen, Hunk was talking quietly with Pidge, the sky cloudless behind them, the whisper of crowds below a white noise. Lance eased his way further into the canyon. The beacon flashed.

Everything became familiar when Lance rounded his first corner. The rock was jagged, thick juts and small ledges. Lance began to climb. The beacon grew closer. As he pulled himself up, the wind picked up again. In the distance, just over another rise, the beacon became visible. Lance crouched down beside it, digging it free and clicking it off before he peered into the ravine below. The cave was perfectly hidden from the ground, though from above it was visible just fine. The fugitive and his interloper were holed up inside. Lance grinned.

“Why would they choose this area?” Pidge muttered. Lance glanced up. Pidge leaned closer to the screen, flicking her glasses up into her hair.

“It’s tucked away and out of sight. Pretty good spot, to be honest,” Lance said. He took out his Mida and scoped the location, checking for any possible movement from the mark. Not so much as a peep. The hidden ravine had two entrances, one back the way Lance had came and the other heading deeper into the canyon. Either way, with Lance up high, he’d be able to keep an eye on the cave. With the limited supplies the mark had managed to collect yesterday, they wouldn’t be able to chance not heading out again. Swiping clear a comfortable seat, Lance settled in for the long haul.

He burned time by assembling and checking on all the functions of Zen Meteor, sighting down into the canyon and adjusting the scope as necessary. A flying creature in the distance caught his eye and he zoomed in on it, huffing out a breath as it used the wind to push higher, higher, into the clouds and gone. Lance swept back over the ravine, zeroing in on shifting rocks and the play of dust over stone. Still no movement from the cave.

Pidge kept up a surprisingly intriguing commentary, singling out and describing the aliens she could see from up high: the metal exoskeletons of a pair of aliens with alarmingly thick armour and elegant guns on their backs; the elaborate dance-walk a group of aliens managed, distracting everyone in the square; the swivelling eye stalks of one alien that were not directly controlled by the front facing eyes it already had. Lance asked occasional questions, mostly to gain more descriptions. Hunk challenged her to a game of I-Spy. Lance grinned when she guessed the purple Asari from across the street, but Hunk obviously was talking about the sign for one of his favourite tools-and-parts store. Pidge called cheating. Hunk distracted her with another game.

As Lance resettled into a new position, his visor chirped with an incoming message. BAT BOI. Again. Lance groaned, long and annoyed, and double clicked on the message before Hunk could inquire. Sendak’s annoying self popped up in the message, far too close to the camera for comfort. Lance recoiled, face screwing up in dislike. Behind Sendak were the clear metal lines of a ship, distinctly different than his usual background setting. Weird. Sendak began the message with the usual fanfare: ‘you are disappointing’ and ‘you failed to deliver’ and ‘the Galra Empire!’. Lance rolled his eyes. Seriously. Fuckhands McMike definitely had an Empire-boner if this was anything to go by. Before Lance deleted the message, a flicker in the bottom corner of his visor caught his interest. A window. The bare scrap of red and black rock. _Familiar_ rock.

“You _asshole_ ,” Lance hissed out, swiping the video to the side and bringing up Hunk and Pidge’s instead. “We got a problem, guys.”

“Are you okay?” Hunk asked immediately.

Lance waved his head. “Yeah, I’m fine. Unfortunately we’re about to have company. I’m not sure how, but Bat Boy is on his way.”

“ _Sendak_?” Hunk shifted, picking up different pieces of equipment and squinting at them. He glanced over his shoulder. “ETA?”

“Not sure yet. Video call just came in. _Son of a bitch_.” Lance shifted the scope to the sky, scanning for incoming craft. Unfortunately, the docks were too far away for Lance to make out the comings and goings. There was no way to tell exactly when Sendak had sent the video. He was either here already or was about to be. Lance swore more colourfully.

“Wait a minute,” Pidge interrupted. “Wait. Sendak? You mean he’s here _here_?”

Lance blinked. “Apparently. I didn’t realize their ships were so close; Sendak controls the region and Dvix is just a small part of it.”

“It has to be because of the mark. He stayed close just in case. Who _is_ this guy?” Hunk stood, walking to the far side of the rooftop and peering through a set of binoculars.

Pidge cursed, crouching as she typed. Lance swung the rifle back down to the ravine and his target. Okay. He couldn’t focus on Sendak and his assholery right now. There was a real chance that his mark would come creeping out of the cave any moment. Bag and tag.

If Sendak was hoping to get to the mark before Lance could deliver, there would be hell to pay.

“Stars sake,” Pidge snapped. “Lance, you’re being tracked. You’re being tracked _right now_.”

“What?” Lance sat up, patting down his clothes and over his bag. “There’s nothing here they could use to track me. It’s all my own stuff!”

Hunk crouched into frame, expression grave. “Do you have the remnants of the cloaking devices with you?”

Immediately, Lance followed that train of thought and his face fell. “Aw, Nyma, no.”

Hunk began gathering equipment. “We’re coming to you. Stay put. This mission is over.”

“I’m not allowing Fuckhands McMike to get the mark when we’ve spent literal weeks tracking this guy. That reward is _ours_. We’re going home.” Tossing the devices down the opposite side of the ravine wouldn’t buy him much time; he would just need to pray for luck. Flopping onto his stomach, Lance resighted. _Come on_.

“Lance, you are not equipped to handle a fight with Sendak or any of the sentries he’s going to bring with him. This is over!” Hunk snapped.

Lance shook his head. “It’s not over until I get this guy. Pidge, can you locate Bat Boy? Keep me informed on his position?”

“You are the most frustrating -” Hunk started, snarling as he stood up. “We’re coming to get you. Pidge, locate Sendak. Lance, stay put.”

Pidge blinked and then was hoisted up over Hunk’s shoulder, her startled squeak bringing a weak smile to Lance’s lips. Pidge kept up the feed even as Hunk found them a way down, her brows furrowed in clear worry. Lance remained focused on the entrance to the cave, throwing out as many prayers as he could think of: _let them come out, let me catch them, let me, let me, let me_. They were up against the clock and damned if Lance was going to lose this race.

A quick rustle of movement at the mouth of the cave and Lance perked up. A hand, five fingers, wrapped in black bandages. A cloak, tattered and hooded, masking the face. Another figure ducked behind the first. Lance breathed out. The interloper was in the way but they were running out of time. _Come on_.

“They’re out,” Lance whispered. Pidge’s head jerked up in surprise on the video, her typing growing frantic. Lance flexed his finger on the trigger, flicking through the cache and double checking on the sleeper shots he had available. The interloper was the first out, holding out xir hand for the mark to take. Another quick flash of a smile, the scar flexing over the mark’s face, and then they picked their way toward the entrance to the ravine.

“Lance!” Pidge snapped out, voice a frantic edge. Lance glanced up at her and out of his peripheral, sunlight glanced off silver and purple.

“ _Of course_.” Lance shuffled backwards on his knees, removing himself from line of sight. The sentries were crawling up the sides of the canyon wall, gouging holes into the red and black rock and shovelling out space for themselves. They swarmed like locusts, drawn to a single place, a single beacon. Lance held his breath, hoping when they found the discarded cloaking equipment, they would leave. Unfortunately, the mark and his interloper were almost at the mouth of the ravine.

Lance had to move fast.

Pushing to his feet, he ran along the edge of the canyon wall, fingers slippery over the rock. If he could get to the other side of the ravine first, he could fell the mark and claim the prize. If the sentries picked up on just who was walking hand in hand along the canyon floor, well. No amount of sharpshooting would keep the mark safe.

Thankfully, Sendak hadn’t shown up yet.

The canyon wall curved back inwards, allowing Lance a small space that he could drop down. Tucking Zen Meteor against himself, he waited. His visor was pinging locations of the sentries and how terrifyingly close they were to Lance’s location. The beeping viciously drowned out any noise from Pidge or Hunk. Too many sentries nearby, too many possibilities. Get the mark, get out. Lance held his breath.

The interloper was the first one out, back to Lance, fingers still tangled tight with the mark’s. Lance swept over their joined hands and focused on the hooded figure as he left the safety of their ravine. Exhaled. Flexed his fingers on the trigger.

“ _Lance, listen to me_!” Pidge shouted.

Cursing, Lance dropped the scope in surprise. Pidge was wiggling in Hunk’s hold on screen, fingers flying over her keyboard. Her eyes were crazed, glasses at the tip of her nose. Unfortunately, her distraction was enough that the sentries closest to the ravine took note of the mark and his interloper. Lance brought up the scope again. Pidge shouted once more.

“Pidge! What the hell! I have to get him now or we’re shit out of luck!”

Pidge shook in the video, her gaze wide and feverish. “This’ll all make sense when we have a chance to fucking breathe, but I need you to protect the mark; I need you to keep him alive!”

“If they take him now, I won’t get my reward. Let me do my job!”

“You’re not going to get a reward! Sendak is going to betray you! You know this!”

“For fuck’s sake, Pidge, I’m sorry about your family, I’m sorry that this isn’t working out, but we told you -”

“Listen to me!” Pidge yelled, furious, and Lance froze, startled by her ferocity. “You can’t let them take Shiro, you _can’t_ , I won’t let you!”

“I - ‘Shiro’? What?” Lance asked, the nose of his rifle dipping. Shock rippled through him; Shiro was a distinctly human name, one that pinged with familiarity. He lifted his rifle. “Pidge, I need more information! What do you mean ‘Shiro’? That’s - I know that name. Why do I know that name? _What is going on?_ ”

Most of the sentries had dropped to the canyon floor, creating a perfect block around the mark and his interloper. The interloper shoved the mark behind xir, the knife on xir side sparkling and then transforming into a sleek blade. Lance swung his scope up. More sentries straightened, to the side of the interloper and behind the mark, effectively blocking off an escape route.

The sentries flickered, purple then red, and attacked.

The interloper was fast on xir feet, that was for damn sure, the blade flashing in the dying sunlight. Each strike was quick, each movement calculated. But the sentries kept coming, kept marching, own blades sliding out and challenging the interloper.

Quickly, Lance scanned through the other sentries, searching for the mark. Shiro. He knew that name, he _knew_ it, but why did he know it? Shiro. Pidge yelled on screen, demanding Lance save him, that he save _Shiro,_ that he couldn’t hand him over to Sendak, he couldn’t. Lance gnashed his teeth. The sentries crashed forward.

He frantically scanned between Galra metal for that hint of a cloak. The sentries swarmed, angry hornets converging on prey. There and gone. Fabric swirling. A flash of a blade. The sentries in the middle began to fall, screams of metal ringing in the ravine. Another went down and there he was.

Hood back. Teeth bared. Rounded ears, scar across his nose, grey-white tuft of hair.

Their mark was _human._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAAAAAT. Snerk. I hope you all enjoyed the reveal!!! Come follow me on [tumblr](http://ashinan.tumblr.com/) for more Voltron or [twitter](https://twitter.com/ashinanfandom/) for a constant stream of my writing consciousness as it devolves into only thinking about Voltron. Thank you again for reading and commenting and just being here while I write this epic. You're all amazing!!!


	8. 7.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodness it has been....a while haha. I'm so sorry dahlings for not updating for so long! Life kind of happened and I just devolved into writing one shots instead of epics but I did want to get this chapter out as its the last chapter of arc I of this fic. I am gonna chip away at it when I can, I promise. Still a HUGE thanks to [Lisa Onions](http://butteredonions.tumblr.com/) for helping me through this fic and, even though she's unavailable right now, has still been a massive inspiration for me! Enjoy dahlings.

Over the years since the _Reliant_ ’s destruction, Lance obsessed over faces: faces of his comrades, faces of his family, potential faces of the Galra that had so mercilessly destroyed their tiny exploration vessel. The problem with this endeavour was the lack of familiarity at the edge of the universe; expressions and mannerisms linked intrinsically to those in Lance’s mind became muddy the longer he was separated from them. Ryder’s usually expressive gestures mixed with an Alosi’s squinting eyes; Inira’s exasperated fondness blurred with Nyma’s wide eyed irritation; Lydia’s jumping hugs blurred with a Turan’s long reach and clap on the back. Everything became fuzzy.

Until Pidge.

Until _Shiro_.

All these years, Lance had relied on Hunk to center himself on what humanity looked like. Pidge was a sharp contrast to Hunk’s soft features and broad shoulders: she was a furious, desperate ball of determination that never quit. She was humanity in a nutshell. Reaching, hoping, never giving up.

She was also screaming in Lance’s ear when he froze at the sight of Shiro. _Shiro_. A human name. Another human at the edge of the universe, one that had been captured and held by Galra forces. The _Reliant_ ’s explosion painted the backs of Lance’s eyelids with every blink. Had Shiro been on the _Reliant_? Had Lance truly left his crew to be harvested by the Galra?

"Lance, for fuck’s sake, answer me!" Pidge snarled.

"Why –" Lance began, swallowing hard. Below, the sentries moved in tight circles. Around Shiro. Around another - "Pidge –"

"We don’t have time for this. I need you to tell me what the hell is going on." Pidge’s voice was a blur of panic and fury, towering in the face of Lance’s static paralysis. Hunk was silent in the background, a twin point of shock. "Lance, focus!"

Lance shook his head, mouth dry. "You – why didn’t you just tell us?"

Another wordless snarl but Pidge didn’t respond. What could she say, really? Everything was falling down around Lance’s ears, his thoughts a swarm of incessant noise. Lance swung up the scope. Caught sight of Shiro’s face once more. Nearly hyperventilated at the rounded ears, the sharp jaw, the fury burning in too human eyes. _Human_.

Okay. _Okay_. "We need a plan."

"We have a plan," Pidge snapped back. "Save Shiro. We’ll figure the rest out later."

A hysterical laugh bubbled up and out of Lance as he focused through the scope. "Yeah. Yeah, sure, Pidge. We’ll _figure it out_."

The sentries howled as they formed impassable circles around Shiro, around the interloper. Flashes of purple light sliced and carved through metal, screeching machinery echoing off canyon walls. The interloper was making quick work of the ones around xir. Shiro was holding his ground pretty well, though all Lance could make out was a glowing purple – sword? Maybe? Whatever it was, Shiro kept it tucked close to his body as he fought his way to the interloper.

There were just too many sentries. They rose and fell in waves, cockroaches refusing to die. Every destroyed sentry was replaced by two more. Even more clambered their way down from the shelves of rock, charging headlong into the fray. There was no uniform to their movements, no pattern to their thoughts. It was a simple rush order. The duo fell back under the onslaught and Lance loaded his rifle. Pick off the ones on the walls, take out the ones on the floor, figure out the rest later. Lance sighted and sucked in a breath.

A bellow shook the air, loud enough that Lance jerked in his temporary nest. There, just to the left of the battle, was a familiar sight. With his stupid fuck-you hand and a snarl marring his face, Sendak charged his way into the fray; he used the hand as a propulsion, slamming claws into the dusty ground and launching himself up high above the fight. He landed hard. Three sentries fell beneath his weight, crushed as he whirled toward Shiro. Shiro barely had a moment to compensate for the new threat. He threw up his glowing purple sword.

With a terrible _screech_ , the two of them came together. Shiro gave under the onslaught, unable to withstand the sheer enormity of Sendak’s attack. Flung back and away, he landed hard, scrambling for a hold as he ground to a halt. But it wasn’t the remarkable recovery that caught Lance’s attention; no.

It was the _glowing purple arm_.

Metal encased Shiro’s arm up to mid-bicep, bleeding off Druidic magic in a more concentrated manner compared to Sendak’s fuck-you hand. Unlike Sendak’s, it was sleek and small: an exact replica of his human arm.

The interloper shouted, ripping apart two more sentries as xe ran toward Shiro. The sentries piled on top of xir, bearing xir to the ground. Xe screamed in fury, shouting Shiro’s name.

Lance wet his lips. "I need ETA, stat. They’re getting overwhelmed and I don’t have enough bullets to pick off every single one."

Frantic typing met his request, Pidge’s voice breathless. "How many sentries are there? They’ve jammed comms and the cameras we placed out there; I can’t get a clear look." The hum of the cargo bay door closing clanged in Lance’s ears, mixing with the static. "We just made it to the ship; we’re heading your way."

"Hurry. Bat Boy has landed and he’s taking the fight to Shiro. Your guy is holding his own, but the sentries managed to down the interloper." Lance tensed his finger on the trigger, decisions popping up, variabilities flying by. If Shiro was human, did that mean the interloper was too? "I’ll start picking them off, but it’s bad."

"I can’t see shit," Pidge hissed. The thunder of the ship filled the comms. Lance exhaled. "It doesn’t matter. Save Shiro. Once we get him out of there, we can talk about the rest of the plan."

"Oh, so there was a plan? Good of you to include us," Lance snapped. "I’ll assist. Keep me updated."

Muffling the comm with a flick of his gaze, Lance swept his rifle up to the right canyon wall where three sentries were crawling their way down. Each shot was impeccable, each blast a quiet ricochet of noise that was lost amongst the battle below.

The sentries fell.

Lance sucked in another breath, swung his rifle to the other side, and picked off the four there. The rhythm of the rifle beneath his hands, the hiss as it reloaded and recoiled against his shoulder grounded him, blotted the anxiety into manageable shapes. As the last of the sentries fell beneath his onslaught, Lance pushed to a knee. Sighted down the barrel to where the sentries were keeping xir pinned.

Breath in. Exhale. Fire.

The sentry recoiled, plasma sizzling through its head, and dropped with a clatter. Lance sucked in another breath, held it as he resighted. Exhaled. Fired. Took out the other three in quick succession. When xe scrambled to stand, the hood fell back. Lance swallowed down his surprise, hands shaking for only a split second.

Another human. _Of fucking course_.

Furious, Lance took out three more sentries, maintaining the area around the interloper as he caught his breath. Smaller than Shiro though no less fierce, the interloper had the audacity to wear a _mullet_. At least Shiro had some sense of pride in his looks if the undercut and stylish white forelock were anything to go by. Blood caked the side of the man’s temple, slid slick over the tense line of his jaw. The interloper crouched and lifted a small silver knife; a wash of light shifted it into a sleek blade. More magic. Great.

Quicker on his feet and more controlled with his movements now that he knew of backup, the interloper made quick work of the remaining sentries around him. Lance swung the scope over and removed three more sentries picking their way over the canyon rock.

The interloper glanced up at where Lance was perched, gaze sharp and focused through Lance’s scope. Lance fought down the urge to pack his shit and leave. It was unnatural how easily the interloper could spot him. Perturbed, Lance swung his scope away.

The sentries were still a problem, though they were containable now. The interloper bore down on them with a snarl of rage, cleaving them in two, slicing off arms and legs and dropping sentries like dolls. Lance cleared the path as best he could, picking off flanking sentries as the interloper booked it toward Shiro and his fight with Sendak.

Shiro was holding his own, but just barely. Each movement was countered, each push forward immediately lost as Sendak used his lightning arm to cut off all avenues of escape. Shiro was flagging, legs shaking as he was backed into a corner. His metal arm was obviously made of ridiculous stuff; the beating it was taking couldn’t be good for Shiro’s joints. Even this far away, it was obvious Sendak was playing, drawing this out, being a complete and utter asshole.  

Lance drew in another breath. This was – a choice. This was his choice, here, now, staring through a scope as Sendak drew Shiro in close only to nearly swipe him off his feet. There would be no reward, no return to Earth, no return to their home on Ikrain. But Lance couldn’t just stop – couldn’t risk another human to fall to Galra hands.

 Sendak moved with all the fluidity of a raging beast. He was keyed toward destruction, rocks exploding under the powerful slam of his Druidic hand. Shiro scrambled, dodging when he could, blocking when he couldn’t. The sentries moved to flank him and Lance took vicious glee in removing each and every one of them.

The interloper was drawing closer, low to the ground and fast. Sentries swarmed him. The sword glittered with electricity and a devastating edge, cutting a path clear. He was nearly in position to flank Sendak.

Without warning, Sendak threw his arm wide and side swept the interloper. It was a devastating blow; the interloper went flying backwards, slamming hard into the rock on the other side of the canyon. He fell, silent and horrifyingly still. Pidge yelled in Lance’s ear. Hunk fought to calm her. Shiro had frozen.

The despairing wail that left Shiro echoed in the gorge. He scrambled toward the interloper. Sendak closed in fast, hand flying out and around, catching Shiro hard in the spine. The wicked tips of Sendak’s fingers slammed shut and cut deep into Shiro’s shoulders, pinching him close as Sendak hauled him up.

Shiro screamed.

Lance saw red.

Over the years, the faces of his crew had slowly been eroded from memory. But small things remained: Inira’s honking laughter when Lance fired back another pun; Ryder’s ridiculous voices whenever he told a story he thought was funny; Amal’s serious dedication to creating beautiful but inedible artwork out of food. Other things were stronger: Inira’s scream as she was flung back; Ryder’s empty seat; Tali’s destroyed workstation and the acrid scent of burning flesh.

The Galra ship tearing through their small vessel like paper maché.

Here, with Sendak lifting Shiro in triumph, with his purple hand crackling lightning and the red and black rocks cradling the scene, Lance couldn’t breathe. Galra purple. Human despair.

Lance switched over to a paralytic shot and fired.

Sendak’s right leg buckled, dropping him to a knee. Galra Purple. Inira’s scream. Another shot, this one to the junction of Sendak’s Druidic arm. Shiro crashed to the ground. Sendak forced himself up, the lightning still crackling, the purple still bleeding out over the rocks. Galra purple. Ryder’s empty seat. A third shot, this one right to Sendak’s left thigh. It dropped him to the ground, forced him on both knees with Lance up high. An executioner.

Lance flicked his final shot over to plasma.

Peripherally, he was aware of the choice. Peripherally, the undisputed fact that he only used plasma shots on sentries – _kill shots_ – wasn’t lost on him. Peripherally, his mind recoiled in horror, in remembrance. But those small facts paled in comparison to the absolute howling in his ears, the sickening fury of being helpless as the Galra ship stole _everything_ from him.

He lined up the markers on his scope with Sendak’s furious brow.

Inhale.

Galra purple.

Starlight wormhole.

The shreds of the _Reliant_ blown into dust.

Fire.

The blast wrenched Sendak’s head back. Lance exhaled, kept exhaling, couldn’t look away as Sendak’s body arched and then fell limp against the canyon floor. The arm flickered and shut off. Sendak’s eyes went dark, his arm flung out at an awkward angle, blood collecting and then fanning out from his head. Purple blood. Black rock.  Lance ripped his gaze away from the scope and heaved.

Slapping a hand over his mouth, Lance choked on a sob. Strings of panic clutched at his chest, churning messily. He’d – kill shot. He’d fired a _kill shot_. Sendak was dead and it was from Lance’s hand. Unable to stop the retching this time, Lance curled his fingers in the loose dirt. Oh god.

A buzz hummed in his left ear, and Lance wiped at his mouth. Someone – shouting. Someone was shouting.

“Lance! Lance, please, _please_ , answer me!"

“Hunk?” Lance asked weakly, pushing up to his knees. He swayed. A breeze caught the flutter of his cloak. Lanced closed his eyes. Flinched when all he saw were sniper sight lines, the recoil of Sendak’s head. “I’m okay.”

“What happened?” Hunk demanded. Lance swallowed, steeling himself before he methodically cleaned his nest. Disassembled the rifle. Tossed everything into the pack. Slung it over his shoulders. Removed all traces of his being here.

“Shiro is safe. His interloper friend is probably dead. Extraction would be stellar,” Lance said, voice rough. He stood, legs shaky.

Pidge gasped. “What do you mean the interloper is dead? What happened to Keith!?”

Lance smothered a laugh, too shocked and worn to care how he sounded. “Of course the sword freak has a name like Keith. That’s just great.”

“Lance,” Pidge whispered.

“Shiro’s fine. Keith went down when Sendak attacked him. I killed Sendak. Come get me.”

Silence followed his proclamation and Lance covered his eyes, exhaled shakily until his lungs quivered. Hunk’s quiet voice filtered through the feed. “Love? You – you killed Sendak?”

“Right between the eyes,” Lance said, wobbly. He never killed. There was too much blood on his hands already - no. Ignore that.

Lance worked his way over to the edge of the cliff, peering down the side. It was slopped enough that if he hit it right, he could just slide his way down. With a quick skip-hop, he managed to make it to ground level without completely braining himself. Surprisingly, really, considering how dizzy with adrenaline and shock he was. Pinpricks raced up and down his arms. His chest twisted tight. Every blink was a new angle on the arch of Sendak’s spine, on the blood smearing over dark rock. Galra purple. His crew burning into stardust. Lance shoved his hand against his mouth and waited until the panic subsided.

Hunk was talking, low and insistent, but Lance couldn’t pick out the words. Betrayal on all sides. Ikrain was no longer an option: Hunk’s school, Lance’s bounties, their home away from home all lost now. Nyma would have the place watched, day and night, in case her play for the bounty didn’t pan out. She was always a careful one.

There were things in that house though, items of immeasurable worth that Lance refused to part with. Which meant –

“Hunk,” Lance began, neatly cutting Hunk off, “once we’re in the air, plot a course for Ikrain. We have to clear out the house, get as much as we can before Nyma or Rolo torch the place. Pretty sure we’re about to get added to the universe’s Most Wanted list.”

“You did the right thing,” Hunk whispered with such gentle reassurance that Lance closed his eyes. “I’m coming to get you.”

Lance laughed, tucking his trembling fingers into his armpits. He blinked away the wetness of his eyes. Sentries still roamed the canyon floors. “They’re like us, Hunk. Just, please –”

“I know,” Hunk said, still soft, still certain. “I’m almost there. I’m coming to you.”

Exhaling sharply, Lance shook his head. “We’ll have to wait a bit longer before we can go home, baby. Sorry.”

Hunk’s scoffed, a gentle chiding. “There’s nothing to apologize for. ETA five minutes.”

“Okay.”

Lance shook his hands out, schooled his thoughts into some semblance of order, and unstrapped his Mida. Rounding the first corner, Lance spotted and removed three sentries. Another two were walking back and forth as though on invisible patrol. Lance removed them easily. He was met with no resistance, the sentries nothing more than annoyances now that Sendak was dead. When Lance dropped to the next level of the canyon floor, he swept over and picked off another lonely sentry.

Beyond, he could just make out where the interloper – where _Keith_ – had been throw to. It was the ideal place to start. Best case scenario, Keith had just been knocked out by Sendak’s attack. Worst? Well, they could at least take Keith’s body back to Earth with them.

The black and red rocks shimmered in the unrelenting heat of the suns. Lance kept to the outskirts, darting from outcropping to outcropping, taking out lonely sentries that crossed his path. As he rounded one of the larger rock formations, he came face to face with Sendak.

The rocks shone eerily with the blood pooled beneath Sendak’s head. Lance closed his eyes, breathed sharply through his nose, and exhaled. His finger shook on the trigger of his Mida. Sendak’s Druidic hand was shoved off and to the side, a massive chunk of horrifying tech that had been shut down the moment its user died.

Lance swallowed. Lifted his Mida and pointed it at Sendak. A breeze caught and tugged at Lance’s cloak, rippled through the blood on the rocks. Lance breathed out. Sight lines converged. He turned on his heel and walked away.

The area where Keith had fallen was mostly shadowed with taller rocks and thick outcroppings. Lance poked his head around one rock before creeping forward, low and with his Mida up. The sentries were slow and stupid right now, but he refused to allow his guard down. As he crested the rise, he caught sight of a fluttering cloak and a full head of hair, face twisted to the side.

Okay, he’d found Keith. Good. Now, where was Shiro?

A hand snapped out and grabbed him around the collar, wrenching the material tight against Lance’s throat. Choking, Lance spun on his heel and brought the butt of his gun up, slamming it against metal. His attacker released him with a grunt before darting in close. Lance couldn’t backtrack fast enough. With a gasp, Lance was slammed up against the nearest rock. His Mida fell from his fingers. Gunmetal fingers tightened the fabric of his cloak to an unyielding degree and Lance gasped, palms slapping against a cybernetic arm.

“Who are you?” Shiro snarled, teeth bared and blood smeared like paint down his cheek. His clothing was in tatters, ragged lines gouged into his shoulders and sides. The metal of his arm was intact though, not a single dent to showcase the beating he’d received from Sendak.

Choking, Lance shoved at the hand again. Pidge was shouting. Hunk was yelling. Lance kicked out; the heel of his boot clipped Shiro’s thigh. The hold on Lance’s cloak loosened, enough that he was able to suck in a greedy gulp of air, and shouted, “ _Pidge_!”

Shiro paused, fingers still a threat. “What?”

Lance sucked in a greedy breath. “I’m with Pidge. I’m with – I’m with her, she sent me here to save you.” Pidge had gone quiet over the comms. Hunk’s curse was loud and vicious. “She’s on her way to pick us all up.”

Shiro eased up another inch, enough that Lance could cough without causing himself undue damage. “You’re the sniper.” Lance kicked out, hoping to drive Shiro back further. Shiro neatly sidestepped the attack. “You’ve been chasing us. You shot at us. You’re with _Sendak_.”

“Hey, Bat Boy is dead because of me, thank you very much,” Lance rasped. “You’d be dead too if it wasn’t for me.”

Shiro’s eyes narrowed, lips pulled back threateningly. Lance braced for impact. A soft noise stalled the standoff, a pained sigh and a quiet whimper. Shiro’s gaze snapped to the side and away. He released Lance without a word, darting back toward Keith.

Lance tilted his head back, just breathing. His throat throbbed, air wheezing as he sucked in gasp after gasp. Beyond, Shiro was cradling Keith close to his chest, fingers gently brushing back bloodied bangs. Keith’s eyelashes swooped low and he sagged against Shiro. With that surrender, Shiro’s gaze darted up and focused on Lance. Protective. Fierce. Lance waved a hand at him to showcase he wasn’t moving anytime soon.

“At least you aren’t dead,” Pidge said, quiet.

“Yeah, well, not for lack of trying." Lance groaned as he pushed himself upright.

Pidge continued, “I wasn’t sure what you’d do if you knew they were human.”

“What did we do when we found out you were human?” Lance asked. Shiro was still eyeing him, though he cocked his head at that, gaze flicking up and over Lance’s face. His eyes stuck on Lance’s ears and he blinked. “We could’ve dropped you off the side of a cliff. Instead, we’re here. ETA?”

“Two minutes,” Hunk said, tone steely and furious. Lance coughed.

Shiro had still not moved from his crouch over Keith. When Lance stooped to pick up his gun, Shiro spoke: “You’re human.”

“Ding, ding, ding,” Lance said. “What gave it away?”

“Ears.” Shiro gestured, gaze flicking from Keith back to Lance. “You’ll help us?”

Lance laughed, coughed when it caught wrong in his throat. “I killed Sendak for you. Pretty sure I’m past the helping stage and running right into the offer-you-my-firstborn stage.”

Silence. Shiro narrowed his eyes, mouth a thin line, before he nodded. Staggering to his feet, his breath whistled out in shock as he lifted Keith as well. Shiro’s arm flashed purple, a quick flickering that prickled Lance’s eyes. He tightened his finger on the trigger. Shiro didn’t notice, just carefully adjusted Keith until they were slotted together. When he met Lance’s gaze, there was a resigned hope lingering there.

Lance led the way, deliberately turning his back to Shiro in a quiet show of vulnerability. Shiro sighed behind him, shuffling footsteps following as Lance picked his way back toward the slope he’d slid down. In the distance, the hum of propulsion jets could be heard above the whistle of the wind, the canyon vast and echoing around them. Almost done. Almost there. Lance rubbed at his throat.

He’d met three new humans in the space of a week.

The odds staggered him, prickled against his temples in reverberating shockwaves. There should be no way.

It would be hilarious if Lance wasn't sick with shock right now.

The obvious problem presented itself when Shiro couldn't make the climb up any higher. He was already carrying extra weight. Blood seeped through the cuts in his shirt, staining everything a muddy brown. Lance skipped his way back down the incline, coming to a halt just outside of Shiro's reach. They weren't high enough for Hunk to pick the three of them up, nor were they anywhere near an area Hunk could land. Shiro gasped out a breath.

“Can I take him from you?” Lance asked. Shiro tightened his hold, Keith's face lolling against his throat. Lance sighed. “Listen, you need to get up higher with me or we won't be able to make the jump. You can either stay in this pit with your half dead boyfriend or you can trust me for twelve seconds until we're out of here.”

“Lance,” Pidge said softly. Lance grit his teeth. “Keith is all he has.”

“Yeah, well, this job was all I had until you fucked that up.” Lance held out his arms, waiting, and Shiro sighed. Lance's tolerance of the situation had hit peak. They had a shuttle to catch, a planet to escape, and an Empire to evade. They had to _go_.

Shuffling forward, Shiro gingerly passed Keith to Lance. The shift in weight had Lance staggering a moment, though he recovered. Keith whispered out a pained groan, shoulders hunching forward. The guy was a mess up close, worse than Lance had initially thought. Thick scratches began from his right temple down to his jaw. His fringe was heavy with blood. The way his chest stuttered on every third exhale couldn't be good. The fragility of his bones beneath Lance's hands was startling.

“Hunk, they're both beat to shit. We're going to need the medbay ready to receive them.”

Hunk replied, terse, “I'm not letting Pidge fly the ship. I'll set it up when you're back on board.”

Above, the roar of the engines grew louder. Lance trudged his way up the slope, Shiro tugging at Lance’s cloak to pull himself forward, Keith quiet and stuttering in Lance’s grasp. When they reached a flat plateau, Lance stopped. Over the rise, the ship flew toward them.

“Here,” Shiro said, reaching for Keith. Lance passed him back, careful, and Shiro tucked him safely in his arms before Lance could say anything more. Another quiet whimper, Keith's eyes flicking open before they fell closed. Shiro ducked his head close, entire frame shaking. Lance turned away, shielding his eyes.

“Extraction would be great, babe. I don't know how much longer Shiro will stay upright,” Lance said.

“Pidge is setting up now,” Hunk said. His tone had shifted, quiet and subdued. Lance swallowed, exhaustion prickling at his anger. It had been a long day for both of them. It still wasn't over.

Above, the ship slowly descended. The thrust of the engines kicked up dust, spinning it in a thick spiral around them. Beside him, Shiro yanked at Keith's cloak until he could cover Keith's face. Dust stuck to the blood on both of them. Lance closed his eyes.

A wide beam of purple-blue light sparkled down from the cargo hold of the ship, filtering over the space just in front of Lance. Glancing up, Lance could just make out Pidge leaning out the cargo bay, waving an arm in greeting. He waved back before tossing his Mida into the beam. It immediately began the slow ascent toward the ship.

Satisfied, Lance turned back to Shiro and Keith.

The wind had whipped Keith's hair into a frenzy, though his face was safely tucked into the line of Shiro's throat. Shiro was beginning to sag; adrenaline was a great substitute, but when it finally petered out? Yeah, they had to get them on board and fast.

“Head up. We have a makeshift infirmary that should get you both back on your feet.” Lance rocked back on his heels, rubbing at his throat. “Pidge is waiting.”

Shiro said nothing, his gaze flicking between Lance and the beam of light. He nodded. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, well,” Lance said, gesturing. Shiro chuckled, humourless and dry, and stepped forward into the purple-blue beam of light.

Lance followed after, stomach lurching as the tractor beam yanked him up into the air. The view of the canyon spread out before him, black and red rock jutting up in lazy patterns and smoothing out on top. Dust whipped everything into choking spirals; shadows deepened beneath outcroppings. Lorian shone in the dying sunlight, the marble shimmering like a mirage. The walls of the city curved upward, the gates already closed. Beyond, the city was likely abuzz with activity. Lance could just make out the dock dome from where he was floating.

Lance actively avoided surveying the battlezone. Nightmares were definitely in his future and he didn't need a bird's eye view to really hammer the point home.

The beam tracked the three of them all the way up to the cargo hold, where Pidge immediately latched onto Shiro and dragged him inside. Shiro bent forward, dropping his face into Pidge's hair as she checked over Keith and whispered softly to the both of them. Lance landed behind them, tapping the door closed, and shut off the beam. There it was, proof right in front of him: Pidge had been working with the mark and his interloper the entire time. Betrayal hollowed out a small space in his chest. He waited until Pidge glanced up, her face scrunched up with exhaustion and relief.

“The infirmary is right by the bedroom,” Lance said, gesturing over his shoulder. He fought to keep his tone flat. “I'd send Hunk to help but I'd rather not have him be guilted into helping you further than he already has.”

Pidge flinched at that, though she didn't look away. Her gaze was resilient, that achingly human stubbornness that had endeared her to Lance in the first place. Shiro glanced over as well, the sag of his shoulders and the tremble of his knees the only physical sign of his exhaustion. Well, that and all the blood slowly dripping out of him courtesy of a battle fought and won.

“Lance,” Pidge started, not quite accusatory, not quite a plea.

Lance waved a hand, cutting her off. “Go. Make sure your people are patched up. We need to make a pitstop at Ikrain.”

Pidge stepped away from Keith and Shiro, caught Lance's arm with sharp fingernails. Lance entertained the notion of shrugging her off, of shouting, of calling her out on withholding crucial information, but that honestly was too exhausting at the moment.

Quiet, Pidge said, “Lance, I had to be sure.”

“Yeah, well, I'm glad you got what you wanted.” Lance peeled her fingers away, one by one. “Even if it was at our expense.”

Another flinch, though Pidge didn't refute it. Lance flicked a glance up at Shiro, exhausted and beaten and clearly in pain, and to Keith, quiet and unconscious and still. Lance didn't bother with anything more, just turned and made his way toward the bridge and Hunk.

Pidge had gotten what she wanted.

Now what were _they_ supposed to do?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends arc I. I am still working on this story I promise I'm just. V v slow at writing rn but I will do the words. This might just take a looooong time to complete. Thank you so much to everyone still reading and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!! Come follow me on [tumblr](http://ashinan.tumblr.com/) for more Voltron or [twitter](https://twitter.com/ashinanfandom/) for a constant stream of my writing consciousness as it devolves


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